Dreams of You
by Meowser Clancy
Summary: 1920s AU segueing into a 1930s AU. When Jim meets a young nightclub singer, he only wants to get closer. And when fate brings Melinda Gordon back into his life ten years later, he's not going to let anything stand in the way of making sure he never loses her again.
1. Chapter 1

Melinda ran nervous hands over the new dress. She had to admit that she just wasn't suited to the styles of the day. The boyish cut, and the straightness of the dresses didn't really flatter her more...curvaceous frame. She'd resorted to binding her breasts just to get this dress on, but Kevin wouldn't have it any other way.

She swallowed.

Her mother wouldn't approve of this.

To be truthful, Melinda was a little scared herself. She was just a girl, in bobby socks and saddle shoes just a few short months ago, in her last year of school.

Like all other girls, she'd vaguely hoped for college but only expected marriage with a hopefully not too disagreeable husband. Unlike most other girls, Melinda had always ached for more. A lot more. Excitement. Passion. Danger.

Romance.

And she'd found it all in Kevin McCall.

Her mother didn't approve of him at all. That was, Melinda had to admit, a very big part of her attraction to him.

And his looks. Dark hair, dark eyes—so dark that at first they'd scared her—pale skin and long fingers.

He was tall...compared to her. But anyone was.

The day that she'd met him, she'd just been visiting the drugstore after school as usual, trying a new lipstick color that her mother would never let her buy.

And Kevin had been there, leaning on the counter, just staring at her.

It had made her uncomfortable. No boy had ever looked at her like that before.

And when she'd stood up, left, brushing her hands on her skirt, he'd followed, pressing her against a wall and leaning over her.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever met," he'd whispered.

Wide chocolate colored eyes had gazed up at his dark, dark ones.

And her lips had parted. "So what?"

He'd laughed, surprised. "So will you...let me walk you home?"

Her mother, watching Melinda like an eagle as usual, had given Melinda the scolding of her life when she'd come home accompanied by a strange boy.

Melinda wasn't sure how she'd managed to refrain from pointing out that if her mother had let her, Kevin wouldn't be a strange boy. Not anymore. Or that any boy was strange to Melinda because her mother kept it that way.

He'd found her at the library after that. Melinda wasn't quite sure how, but one day she'd looked up from her novel and there he was, just staring at her, as he had that day in the drugstore.

"You're still the prettiest," he'd whispered, walking forward, again backing her until there was a wall behind her.

This time, she hadn't been afraid. Not in the same way. More afraid that he wouldn't kiss her.

And yet how had that, and the ensuing flighty romance that followed, filled with secret meetings and whispered words; notes and hurried interludes when her mother wasn't looking...how had that segued into _this_?

She again tugged at the dress, fearing that her...derriere would rip the fabric back there.

It really didn't fit.

Not the way it should.

She bit her lip, looking at the magazine on the bed; on the cover was a boyish looking girl with a blunt haircut; stick thin, elegant in a lazy way, looking the exact opposite of Melinda.

Yet they were wearing the same dress. Nearly the same dress.

It was called a flapper dress, Melinda thought. Lace, ish, and strands of beads instead of fabric for the last foot or so of fabric. It was the very newest style.

Melinda would almost rather cut her hair, though something like that would be a lot harder to hide from her mother.

She inhaled, and finally placed the finishing touch on the outfit: a headband that wrapped around her head and had feathers attached to it, which hung over her face.

She looked ridiculous. Her flattened breasts, the way the dress just didn't fit, the curves of her hips almost ripping it...

But Kevin had bought it for her, insisting she wear it tonight.

Tonight.

That was even more terrifying.

He'd needed the money, he said.

She wondered why that meant _she _was the one working.

* * *

The club was smoky, terrifying and if Melinda was caught inside she'd be arrested. Prohibition promised that, she reflected, watching the liberal amounts of alcohol everywhere in sight.

The bartender caught her eye as she passed, perhaps sensing how terrified she was, and their gazes seemed to catch and hold.

But she kept walking, letting Kevin lead her forward.

Blue eyes followed their progress.

Melinda chanced one more glance, over her shoulder.

He was still watching. Still watching and just about Kevin's opposite in every way possible. Tall, very much so. Muscled. Tan. Dark haired; that was the only similarity.

And he had blue eyes. So blue and light.

Melinda inhaled, and Kevin pushed her towards the stage. "I'll play," he whispered.

She sighed, tried to breathe.

Kevin started one of the new jazz hits, one that he'd had her memorize; something that had necessitated her spending dime upon dime at the record store to get the man there to play it over and over again, because her mother would never allow it in her household. They didn't even have a record player. Her mother said it was the expense but Melinda knew that that was only part of it...barely half of it.

The club was watching. Melinda felt the eyes of every man in the place upon her, from the proprietor (someone Kevin had pointed out) to the lowest serf.

To the bartender.

His arms were rippling as he wiped the counter.

Melinda began to move, dancing a little back and forth like the dancers did in the new movies.

And she opened her mouth and sang.

The song she didn't like. It was crude and silly. It required a lot of hand gestures that Kevin had had to explain to her, and that almost made her blush if she hadn't practiced this a hundred times in her mirror to make sure that she wouldn't.

The crowd actually paid attention. She heard several whistles and her audience was slowly straightening from slumped over shoulders to very alert and wide awake.

The combination of obvious woman-child and the allure that she was forcing had the desired effect. Melinda doubted anyone cared if Kevin was even playing.

For his sake, she tried even harder, twirling more, the strands of her skirts whipping around her legs; beads hitting hard and making her wince.

And the song was over. That was meant to be it. That was all Kevin had told her.

She stared out at the crowd.

And the piano started again.

Melinda met Kevin's gaze, madly shaking her head, but he was pounding on, nodding furiously at her.

It was the same song.

"Do it again," he hissed.

And she did.

More people came in, obviously not expecting the performance, but not protesting.

As the evening wore on, Melinda grew more and more uncomfortable as the men's eyes never left her body. As they grew more drunk. As they started to whistle louder and shout things that made her ears turn red.

And finally, Kevin stood up, bowed. "Thank you for coming," he said. "But I'm done for the night."

Melinda, dazed, stumbled off the stage when he gestured.

"I just need to get my money from Crestbull," he hissed, gripping her arm in his. "Go sit at the bar for a moment. I'll be right back."

He then hurried over to one of the richer looking men, and was led to a back room.

Melinda was left all alone in a sea of desperate men, who all seemed distinctly dangerous.

She edged towards the bar, wishing she had a purse to hold, since suddenly she didn't know what to do with her arms so that they wouldn't brush against the men in the room (it was so crowded now) and make them think she did it intentionally.

Oh goodness.

And then there was a hand on her shoulder. "Come over to the bar," a voice said, deep enough to send a shiver down her spine. "That's what Kevin said, yes?"

"Yes," Melinda whispered, turning around, somehow knowing who'd be standing in front of her.

It was the blue eyed bartender, just as tall and handsome as he'd looked behind the counter as standing in front of it.

She hesitated to follow him, as the crowd was still too thick. He gave her a smile, as if trying to say he understood her dilemma, and slipped an arm loosely around her shoulders, navigating the crowd for her and pulling her to the counter.

He settled her on the farthest stool, slipping back behind the bar. "Do you want something to drink?" He asked.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, flushing. "Do you have lemonade?"

His lips curved into a brilliant smile. "Do you mean that?" He asked, leaning closer to be heard over the crowd.

"Yes," she whispered, ducking her head.

His eyes darkened at her sincerity, clouding, and he looked over to the door where Kevin had disappeared. "He's not doing this to you, is he?" He murmured.

"What?" Melinda asked, whipping her head up.

He had a rueful look on his face, and shook his head. "Never mind," he said. "No, miss...?"

"Gordon," she said, meaning to only give her last name.

"Funny name for a girl," he said, eyes meeting hers.

"Melinda," she confessed. "Melinda Gordon."

His eyes ducked away from her. "I don't have any lemonade, Miss Gordon," he said, dragging a rag over the spotless bar. "Unfortunately."

"Then never mind," she said, crossing her arms.

"I'm Jim," he said a moment later, and she looked up at him. "We might be seeing a lot of each other."

She opened her mouth to protest, to say that she'd never see him again...but something, the greed in Kevin's eyes, made her stop.

It made her feel guilty, to doubt Kevin like this.

And yet she knew that only trouble would follow this.

Kevin came stumbling from the back room, clutching a handful of bills. He came blissfully across the room. "Hey, Melinda, come on," he shouted. "I got the money. Thanks, Jim, as always."

She didn't miss the anger in Jim's gaze when he looked at Kevin, nor how Kevin was completely oblivious. He yanked Melinda to her feet and dragged her from the room.

He seemed happy, Melinda reflected. That had to be a good thing.

He led her to his car. "You looked good tonight," he commented. "You finally wore one of the new flapper dresses. I liked it, Melinda."

"Did you?" Melinda asked.

"I don't know what you did, up top," he said, gaze shooting to her chest. "But it's good that you look more modern now."

She almost stopped walking. "I thought I was the prettiest girl you knew," she managed to whisper. "Why would you want me to change?"

He didn't hear as he walked around to the other side of the car.

"Get in," he said impatiently.

She hurried to comply.

He drove them to her house, but stopped before the turn. The night was dark.

He turned in his seat and leaned over. His lips brushed against hers, and her lips tingled from the romance of the moment.

"Oh, god, Melinda," he said, running one hand up her thigh.

She jerked in response but he merely pressed his hand harder.

"Let me," he gasped, his hands moving everywhere, pressing her against the seat. "If you love me. You do love me, don't you, Melinda?"

The words were accusing.

"Of course," she stumbled.

"Then it's my right," he said.

He hiked her skirt up, pulled his trousers down.

She swallowed.

"Don't worry, I have this," he said, pulling something over his...appendage. "I won't make you pregnant. God knows I don't need a kid."

So that's what this was, Melinda reflected dully as he entered her, trying not to wince from the pain. She wondered why any girl would want this.


	2. Chapter 2

Jim wondered how long Kevin would be able to string this one along. After all the girls, all the times Jim had to sweep in and rescue them, just as he had this evening...

_This _one. He remembered her eyes, so unbelievably wide and deep, terror showing, and the fixed sway of her hips as she entertained the room.

She was like no other girl Kevin had brought in before. She was innocent, naive. And yet she was wise. Wise enough to see what Kevin was doing to her, but unable to stop herself from caring for the man. The look on her face whenever she looked for him; hope, that he'd love her back. Hope.

Damn it.

Jim had seen it all, deep in her eyes, when he had guided her through the crowd. When he had situated her on the stool and, ducking beneath the counter, faced her.

Kevin had brought in countless girls before then. Girls who wore brazenness like some wore clothes. Girls who knew that Kevin was stringing them along...girls that were, perhaps, doing the stringing. After all, not every girl could boast of having a piano player for a boyfriend. Girls who maybe sang with Kevin at the piano on occasion, but were never put on stage to perform...because no one would have paid attention None were used as sacrifices to a hungry, rabid crowd. Because no one would have cared.

Because Melinda Gordon was different. Special. A temping combination of woman and child, with the voice of an angel and the gentle curves of a woman.

She was beautiful. Though Jim hoped, for her sake, that he'd never see her again; that Kevin would never bring her back, his very soul seemed to ache to see her again.

One thing was for certain; he'd remember her—the delicate angles of her face, her soulful eyes, her moving lips as she sang, her voice—he'd remember _everything _for a very long time.

Jim was no saint, he admitted to himself, lingering on the memory of her hips. Watching her had been just as arousing for him as it had been for every other man watching. Possibly more. But there was a difference, he insisted to himself.

Along with that desire, that restless need to have her, to love her, came other emotions. He had a tender heart from growing up watching his doctor father tend to anyone who came onto his path...be they priest or prostitute; paying or destitute.

The feeling that she'd awakened in him, they were more than selfish desires. It _was _desire, but a desire for her to grow, to be free, to escape Kevin, to never come back here, to live and sing forever and always stay as ethereal as she had been tonight.

Jim's heart pounded again, aching, as he wiped the bar down for the final time that night, slipping as inconspicuously from the speakeasy as he could, darting through the darkened streets and avoiding the lamp posts and policemen.

Prohibition was an utter joke. But if Jim was caught...well, that would be a joke he wouldn't find the humor in to laugh at.

* * *

She came back that night, tugged in by Kevin again, wearing the same dress. Jim's eyes were caught by her, traveling over the curved body, lingering on the swell of her hips and staying on the barely visible curve of her breasts. Something seemed wrong with that picture. She was trying so hard to be a girl of the day, but Jim could tell that it was actually the last thing she wanted. And the shape of her, the trim legs...her hips. Her waist.

He traveled up again, losing himself at her chest. She winced as Kevin slowed, and his arm brushed against her side.

Jim wondered. He'd heard about that before. Girls trying to look more modern.

But then again, the dress was fairly low cut and he couldn't see any binding so he shook the thought away.

Kevin had brought girls before. He'd even had Jim look after them before while he conducted his business, hence Jim immediately going to her side last night, speaking to her.

Jim had never felt guilty before.

He felt guilty again now, for not saying to her, in the most explicit way, that Kevin was bad news.

But he hadn't.

Regardless, Melinda was here again. Here again and just as beguiling as before.

Kevin urged her onto the stage. Jim hung up his towel, leaning his forearms on the counter and effectively signalling that he wasn't serving drinks currently.

He watched her, as she quietly found a place on the tiny stage, eyes downcast. He watched her until she glanced up, saw him looking and he realized she was returning the stare.

His heart skipped a beat that she was looking at him so intently. And finally, he nodded at Kevin shaking his head at Melinda.

She smiled, one touched by sadness and knowledge, one that hurt his heart.

Kevin began to play. It was a new song and, considering that he'd played only one last night, Jim wondered if he'd forced Melinda to learn a whole new one today.

She sang and danced. At the end of the evening, Kevin disappeared to get his money, not even helping Melinda from the stage. Both staircases leading off of the stage were blocked by the same group—in spirit—of desperate looking men.

Jim slammed the bar flap open, with a bang that carried through the whole room.

The crowd parted for him—one didn't mess with Jim Clancy unless one wanted to deal with Dan—and he walked straight to the stage. The man at the stairs stood their ground, blocking his way, and he didn't even head their way, instead going to the center, standing beneath it and looking up at the cowering Melinda.

He reached out both his hands to her. It took a moment but she finally placed hers in his, so that he could lift her down, but her hands were trembling so much that her grip wasn't strong enough for him to dare to let her jump.

He slipped his hands from hers, noting her alarm and confusion, placing his hands at her waist almost immediately, gripping tight and swung her down to the ground, releasing her instantly; guiding her through the crowd to the same seat he'd situated her in yesterday.

Her cheeks were flushed and she wasn't looking at him.

"Lemonade again?" He asked, voice quiet.

The room seemed to be watching them. She was, still, Kevin's plaything. Jim had never done such a thing before.

"No," she said, and cleared her throat. "Bourbon."

The word was obviously unfamiliar on her tongue, and Jim didn't break her gaze as he got out the bottle and poured a finger full into a shot glass.

"Any words?" He asked, handing her the glass.

Her hand was shaking so much she took it with two hands, but she was still trembling.

"No," she said, and downed the alcohol.

* * *

This went on.

Kevin kept bringing her in. Jim watched, looked after her while Kevin did his business, and mourned when she left; mourned more when she came back.

Her discomfort didn't fade. She might have been growing accustomed to this crowd, to the leers, to the whistles and the songs, but she was still uncomfortable, walking stiffly, always in the same dress.

Kevin took less and less care of her. Jim could tell, by watching her, that she was giving up on him more and more, but still not letting go.

Why wasn't she letting him go? Casting him away?

And then it all came to a head.

* * *

"I've got Melinda in that old supply closet," Kevin slurred as Jim came onto his shift at the bar, early in the evening.

"What?" Jim asked, almost spitting the words.

"It's her dressing room," Kevin hiccuped. "We're doing a big show tonight. Tryin' to impress a man from H-h-h-hollywood. I brought her early to practice but I'm not feeling in the mood for staying here until he arrives. Could you watch after her? I was thinking of going off with Gracie here."

He reached out and palmed a passing girl's breast; the girl giggled. "You're back, Kevin?"

"I am," Kevin said. "Can you get her, Jim?"

His eyes seemed to warn Jim; maybe he'd heard more about Jim watching Melinda than he'd let on. Maybe this was some sort of crude test.

Jim was determined to fail it.

"I'll look after her," Jim agreed, voice stiff.

"I'll be back later," Kevin said, grabbing Gracie and staggering off.

Jim didn't even think, saw the first person he knew and shoved a towel into his hands. "Tim, you're on bar duty tonight."

"You can't mean that," Tim exclaimed. "I was about to win this hand."

"Please," Jim said, voice like steel.

"Alright," Tim said, scared, and quit his game, going behind the counter.

Jim felt anger almost radiating off of him, trying to calm himself down before going in there and terrifying Melinda half to death. He felt like he could kill someone...someone named Kevin McCall.

Though he'd been bringing Melinda for over two weeks now, she'd never let Jim have a real conversation with her. Sometimes they almost got to that point. Sometimes he almost got her to lighten up...and then Kevin would come out and she'd quiet down again, ducking her head, hiding herself.

He reached the door to the supply closet, breathed in, and knocked.

"Kevin?" The words were frantic, eager, and he could hear her moving to the door, yanking it open. "I need your help."

Melinda stood there, in a new dress. It looked painful.

"Jim," she said, stepping back.

"Kevin left," Jim said. "With another girl."

He pulled no punches. Melinda should know this. She should know exactly what sort of man Kevin was.

"He said you have a big show tonight," Jim continued. "For the love of god, Melinda, don't do it."

* * *

Melinda felt her heart crumbling, unsure of what to say. Jim was just standing there, being so ruthless.

She stumbled back into the room, gasping at the pain she felt. This was too tight.

Her mother had discovered the linen cloth she'd been using and had thrown it away, saying that Melinda shouldn't keep scraps like that around. She'd had nothing to do but buy bandages at the drug store and use those...but they weren't wide enough.

Melinda could feel the strips cutting into her skin. Binding her breasts was always painful but this seemed to double the pain. And it was too tight. Kevin had wanted to help her, ruthlessly tying her up, cutting the fabric into her skin.

"What do you mean?" She finally asked, tears in her voice.

She knew exactly what he meant. She...she knew. She'd seen Kevin, with other girls. She knew that he was only using her and it broke her heart but she couldn't say goodbye to him, to the first man who had treated her as a woman. She loved him. She did. Even if he hurt her, every time.

But how did you end such a relationship? He just took, and took, and took more. Even if she had tried to end things he would have ignored everything she said.

"Don't do it," Jim said simply. "Come on. I'll take you out of here. I'll tell Kevin that his man from Hollywood wasn't interested."

"But..." Melinda was grasping at straws but she didn't know what to do. It was too tight. Kevin had bound her _far _too tightly and she wasn't sure she could get out of it without help. She certainly wasn't going to ask her mother and any of her friends...well, that would be far worse.

His words were too much. The pain was too much. Melinda burst into tears, hot and angry, more with herself than anything that Jim was saying. She was such an idiot. She had seen this coming but she'd just followed along blindly in Kevin's path, hoping against hope that he would prove her right. That he was good. That he could be good to her. That he did love her.

He had to love her.

No one else did.

"Don't cry for him," Jim said, his voice almost gentle. "Just let me get you out of here. You don't belong here."

"I can't go home," she said. "It hurts too much."

"What does?" He asked, still impatient.

She couldn't believe she was saying it. She couldn't believe she was even contemplating it but she was desperate.

She was desperate and she remembered long, lonely evenings spent at the bar, staring at Jim, trying to not talk to him, trying to keep herself to herself and not let herself be swayed by his clear blue eyes.

He wasn't a stranger. Not quite.

And he'd rescued her, from the stage, from the men, driven them away, many times.

She was safe with him. She'd feel safer if she couldn't currently sense his anger and frustration. What did he have to be angry about?

She felt the tears almost overwhelm and choke her; the sobs were too much. She couldn't breathe properly and it just hurt so much. She couldn't go home. Not like this. Not to her mother. Not to the coldest woman she knew, Beth Gordon.

She tried to inhale again, to speak.

Jim walked further inside, the door swinging shut behind him. The bare lightbulb on the ceiling swung from side to side.

"The binding," Melinda whispered, voice hoarse. "The binding hurts too much. I...I need help taking it off."


	3. Chapter 3

Jim froze at her words, feeling all anger evaporate. Feeling his breath whoosh out in one sweep, and he could only look at her, clutching herself.

So he was right.

"Binding yourself?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It made me look more modern," she said, voice so quiet that if he hadn't been paying such keen attention he would have found it hard to hear her. As it was, he was so finely tuned into her that he didn't miss a syllable.

He stepped forward, reaching out for something to hold onto.

She was just a girl. Just trying to fit in. And she needed his help.

He...he had no right to take advantage of this moment. He wouldn't.

"Turn around," he said, voice husky, barely working.

She acquiesced, not even looking at him.

He slowly tugged at the zipper of her dress, his breath going out in a hiss when he saw the first sign of white bandages. Good god. Not even cloth.

"Why would you do this?" He asked, his hands on the edge of it, fingering the roughness before going back to the zipper, tugging it down more.

"I used to have linen," Melinda said. "A...cloth. But my mother found it and threw it away and I had to buy bandages, and Kevin...he was impatient."

The zipper reached its length, her low back. He felt his breath get faster at the sight in front of him but he couldn't...he couldn't do this to her.

He carefully, gently, slid the dress down over her shoulders, searching for the end of the bandages, if it was in the back...save her some embarrassment by not having her turn around.

He couldn't find it.

The dress was caught by her hips, thank god, for neither was holding onto it with their hands.

"I can't find the end," he said, his voice deeper than he intended; roughened by the intense desire he felt currently.

She inhaled, or tried to, before turning around and presenting herself to him. The sight was terrible; her chest was completely flattened by the cruel white strips.

He could see the end.

He reached his hand out, and Melinda closed her eyes tight. He found the end and tugged at it, pulling it free. She shivered when his fingers touched her skin and he tried hard to not react, to not let it show on his face, or by his touch.

He continued to pull on the end, reaching one arm around her to trade hands and she made a sound; the tiniest gasp, that made him want to gasp back, that made him lose his breath yet again.

He began to unwind her, letting it fall as he went, hanging at her sides.

And she was revealed.

As every inch of skin was revealed, as her flattened breasts regained their shape, Jim felt like he was about to die. His breaths were so shallow and his pulse was in his ears, his fingers, everywhere.

He moaned, he couldn't hold it back, when her nipples were revealed. And then, finally, she was free.

The bandages fell to the floor.

Jim slowly realized that Melinda's eyes were open, that she was staring at him, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her breasts.

So large. So perfect. He wanted to reach out and cup one, see if it was real. He wanted to suck at them, kiss them.

They look so angry, so hurt and crushed by the binding. Red stripes marched across every inch and Jim wondered at the pain Melinda must have felt binding every night. And why would she even try?

"I know," she said, moving to cover them with her arms. Jim whimpered at losing sight of them but forced his eyeline up to her face. "I'm hideous. Not at all like the girls of the day."

The words floored him, absolutely.

His hands were reaching forward, pulled her arms away. "You're perfect," he breathed, studying them again, gaze caught by the dusky nipples. "Do they hurt? From the binding? Still?"

She nodded, pressing her lips together. "Yes," she managed. "I...this dress won't fit over them but I can't...I just can't..."

The words were forcing themselves to his lips.

"Can I touch them?"

She stared at him, her breath coming faster, making her chest rise, raising her breasts.

"Why would you want to?" She asked, voice breaking.

He gasped. "Who wouldn't?" He managed to say. "I...I think I could make them feel better. And then we can figure out how to get you home."

Melinda's eyes were filled with doubt and then she just nodded, arms hanging by her sides.

Jim's heart again pounded in his ears and he could barely raise his hand. It suddenly felt so heavy. He couldn't believe what he was doing. He couldn't believe that he was in here, like this.

Her breast was so close. He moved his hand the final inch and moaned in the back of his throat when his hand finally touched her skin. She winced.

He moved his hands around to the back first, his arms encircling her, letting her hide her face in his shoulder. His thumbs moved, smoothing the skin there, feeling the lines the strips had left embedded into her skin, massaging them.

"That feels better," Melinda admitted.

He moved up down, getting the whole of the area that had been bound. Her breasts were so magnificent that it was quite an area of back and he only wanted to hold her closer, make his hands softer.

He started to move around to the front, his movements painstakingly slow.

Melinda was relaxing, but now her breath was quickening again; she was getting so tense.

His hands couldn't wait any longer, moving of their own accord.

* * *

He cupped her breasts in his hands, and weighed them, grasped them. They almost overflowed his touch and Melinda closed her eyes again in humiliation.

And then in something else. He continued to move his hands, smoothing over the red marks, touch so soft, and she began to feel something else. She remembered the odd moans Jim had made as he unwound her, like Kevin did when he...had her.

But not like Kevin at all.

She felt something beginning to build within her as Jim's hands caressed her breasts. He was taking away the pain, making it all better, his hands going all over the round, smooth globes.

And then they reached the center. Her nipples.

Jim paused, opened his mouth, and then sighed a little. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, making them instantly hard and alert, taking away the pain they'd felt while bound.

They were leaping into his touch, as if knowing that he'd rescued them, and he was twisting them, touching them, caressing the hard bumps until Melinda moaned, loud and uninhibited.

Something changed in Jim's touch then.

He stopped when she moaned, raising reluctant eyes to her face, and he moved forward, leaning his forehead against hers.

She didn't understand this. This was nothing like she'd ever felt with Kevin. This was...this felt good. In a very disconcerting way. Very good. He was so close their breaths were intermingling. Jim moved his hands down, encircling her waist. And he kissed her, long and slow and soft.

His lips were so tender, moving over hers in ways that brought little gasps to her throat at how good it felt. How different it was.

How different he was.

She sighed into his mouth as his hands continued to move over her breasts, returning to the nipples.

She felt pain there again, but it was a good pain. An ache, more like. It didn't cut. It only enhanced.

She moaned, long and loud, when his tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her. Kevin never tried this. He never made her feel like this, this good.

And then Jim was pulling her down with him, sitting on one of the crates in the store room Kevin had called her new dressing room and guiding her onto his lap.

And then she was kissing him, instead of the other way around. She was wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts tight against him, letting her lips and tongue sweep over his mouth, meet his tongue, dart away, go back.

"You're so beautiful," Jim gasped, pulling away.

She wondered how he could feel that after seeing her breasts, after feeling their weight.

Maybe he sensed the doubt, Melinda pulling away from him.

"I love these," he suddenly declared. "These are beautiful. The second best part of you."

"But they're too big," she said. "Not like everyone else's."

"I don't know...what men you've met..." He said, the words coming almost in pants. "But no man would ever tell you that there was such a thing as too big. Not when it comes to breasts."

She inhaled, trying to breathe, but the look on his face was making it hard.

He pushed his knees up, guided her closer.

"What...what are you...Oh," Melinda said, voice fading away as his lips touched her breasts. If his hands had felt good, if his hands had soothed, his lips were healing.

She couldn't believe how good it felt. She couldn't believe how much noise she was making as he moved his mouth over breasts, kissing the soft skin there, licking the tops, hands coming to cup them again, bring them up ever closer to his mouth.

She was keenly aware of their absence in one place, though. One place.

His lips and tongue were sweeping around, moving in circles, making her feel tight, uncomfortable.

She wanted...she wanted them on her nipples. She desperately wanted his lips there. She wanted to feel him tug on them, suck at them. She wasn't sure how or why she knew, but her body was crying for it.

Begging for it.

She arched her back, leaning into his touch, trying to force his mouth there.

She shifted on his lap, feeling him hard beneath her, knowing from Kevin what that meant.

And yet...

She shifted on his lap again, spreading her legs wide to straddle him. She could feel him beneath her, pounding, large...larger than Kevin

A lot larger. And harder.

She should have felt afraid, knowing what Kevin did, but...

She rocked against him, pressing herself to him. The goodness of the movement, how it utterly robbed her of breath, made her moan, deep in her throat.

Jim had frozen, gasping, as she rubbed against him.

"Touch me there," she begged, too needy to wait for him to get there. "Put your mouth on me."

"Where?" He asked, his voice almost wild, pulling his mouth from her breast.

She brought her hands up, feeling blinded by the desire she felt, and she placed her fingers on her nipples, on the hard peaks, making them come out even farther, it felt like.

"Here," she whimpered, bringing her breasts closer, arching her back again against his hand on her back.

He groaned in return, and finally...finally brought his mouth to one nipple, tugging at it with his lips, swiping his tongue over it.

She felt that same something continue building inside of her. She felt tight, like she was about to shatter.

He was sucking at her, leaving her tip red, inflamed, but completely unlike the feeling before.

He then pulled away, letting his breath fall on the ministered nipple, before turning to the next, letting her guide it to his mouth.

It...felt...so good.

She again rocked against him, grinding her hips tighter against him, feeling him swell beneath her.

And it felt good.

Why was it so different than doing it with Kevin? Why was there only pain then? Was it because he entered her? Was it because he was so small?

She only knew that she never wanted to stop doing this. She only knew that she couldn't breathe and Jim was only making it worse and better at the same time, keeping that pressure building.

"I...I need it," she gasped. "It's pushing me. I can't get there."

She felt as she sensed Kevin must feel, whenever he pushed into her, groaning, until suddenly he just stopped, collapsing against her.

And Jim brought one hand down, sweeping it over her ass, sliding it beneath her dress to the silky skin of her thigh, inside her underwear, until he was inside her, where Kevin went.

But Jim was doing things with his hand that were completely utterly different from how Kevin moved inside her.

It felt good. He was moving, testing, finding.

And then he found something. He touched something.

She bucked against his hand, almost screaming at the sensation.

Jim moaned too, at her reaction. His fingers brushed it again, and she started to rock, and he captured her lips in his, stifling the growing moans and gasps.

And she came to a sudden completion, heart pounding, nerve endings reaching out.

All she knew was that the pressure had been building and suddenly she was released from it, crying out, shattering into the universe.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a long time before Jim quite came back to himself, drunk as he was on the heat of Melinda's embrace.

She was on his lap, he realized dully, her head bowed toward him, and he couldn't help reaching forward to nip at her ear; the soft skin there.

She made a little whimper, curling nearer to him, thrusting herself into his chest and nuzzling closer.

Jim found his hands on her back, supporting her.

"Where the hell is Jim?"

The words managed to penetrate the deep fog of Jim's brain and he leapt to his feet, almost knocking her off balance.

"My dress," Melinda gasped, her face beet red. "It won't button as is." She was vainly trying to pull the bodice up, the erotic scene of her breasts not fitting into it almost making Jim hard again, but terror gave wings to him, made his brain clearer.

He took his jacket off, and then unbuttoned his dress shirt, Melinda's eyes widening as he pulled it from his body, revealing a white undershirt.

He didn't miss the way her eyes caught on his arms; how she wet her lips at the sight. Oh god, he didn't miss it.

He buttoned his shirt around her; it almost didn't fasten at her chest but the amount of material billowing at her small waist counteracted that.

Jim pulled his jacket back on. "Just a minute," he panted, unable to help pressing a kiss to her neck as she tugged at his shirt; vainly trying to get it to fit better over her breasts. "Stay here."

She gasped when his lips touched her skin and when she felt his hot breath there and Jim escaped, almost running straight into Tim.

"I don't know what the 'ell you've been up to, but Crestbull is on the warpath," Tim muttered, shoving Jim on into the room.

He felt befuddled and mildly embarrassed but pushed his way into the bar, behind the counter, and Crestbull was marching up to him in a minute.

"By devil, when I hire a man to do a job, I hire him to do the damn job," Crestbull bellowed. "Why the hell is Tim Flaherty doin' your job?"

"It was an emergency," Jim said coolly, feeling himself calm in the face of the man's anger. It was odd, but seeing others lose control had always helped Jim Clancy keep in control himself, perhaps seeing himself as he would be if he let himself explode.

Crestbull calmed.

"Did Tim not do a good job?" Jim asked.

"That's not the bleeding point," Crestbull growled. "You're fired."

"I'll go," Jim said, and Crestbull blinked in surprise, not expecting this; expecting Jim to beg for his job.

"Then go," Crestbull said. "I don't want you 'ere for this evenin'. I've got business; a fancy man coming to see that bitch that Kevin's been dragging in. Where is he anyway? Isn't it time for his whoring to begin?"

Jim's almost flew over the counter, arms vaulting his legs over, and punched Crestbull straight in the face, hearing a distinct crack.

He didn't stick around to find out what happened next; he flew back to the storage room while shaking his hand out, blowing on the sore knuckles.

The door was open.

He felt his heart thud; he hadn't left it open. He burst into the room, feeling his heart pound in his ears because Melinda wasn't _there _and he turned around only to almost collide with her.

His hands came to her arms, clinging to her, staring down at her, reassuring himself that she was there.

"There's a back door, I was going to go without you, but..." Her eyes were wide and her throat worked.

Jim slung her into his arms, cradling her to his chest, and walked to the back door, going out into the wide, wide world.

* * *

He was leaning against the wall, arms folded, staring at her.

Melinda felt her breath hitch, folding her own arms over her chest.

"Aren't we going home?" She asked, voice brittle from suppressing her emotions.

"Soon," Jim said. "I don't have my own automobile and I'm not taking you home...like that..." He swallowed, his eyes settling again on her bosom. "In the broad light of day. The sun is already setting. I can take you home soon; after it's dark."

She tossed her head, wondering why she'd let him touch her like that; wondering what he thought of her, wondering what he'd expect of her now.

"Are we safe here in the alley?" She wondered.

"This is my brother's territory, so yes," Jim said, scraping a hand over his mouth.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her arms falling away from her chest; she stepped closer to him.

"My brother is head of the gang that controls this part of the city," Jim said easily.

She inhaled, not expecting that answer. "You're a mobster?" She asked, voice breathless.

"My brother is, and since he sometimes takes an unhealthy interest in my business, I guess I could answer yes to that," Jim said, his gaze faltering a little as he looked at her. "Do you think less of me for that?"

"Well, I don't understand why you're just a bartender then," she said. "Can't he find you a better job then?"

"I don't want his kind of job," Jim said, voice tinged with the slightest hint of bitterness.

"What kind of job would that be?" Melinda asked, stepping even closer to him.

He was only a foot away from her now, and he seemed to be feeling it too.

He looked down at his hands. "I think you can guess," he said, voice raw. "I want...I don't want to be part of his gang. I don't want that life."

"What do you want?" She whispered.

He glanced up at her again, catching her eyes, staring at her like he was drowning and she was his life saver. "I...I want to be a doctor," he said. "But my brother took issue with how my teacher graded things...he broke me out of school and I'd have to...do a lot of groveling if I was ever to get anywhere in this city."

Melinda breathed out, and Jim stood up, a full head and shoulders taller than her; shoulders seeming impossibly broad as he put his hands in his pockets. She saw his hands working, wondering if he, too, was restraining himself from reaching out to touch.

Touch her.

She wanted to touch him.

Her face was flushing, wondering if he could tell what she was thinking.

"It's dark enough now," he said finally, turning away from her. "Come on."

* * *

He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him, staring at him like that, offering herself up to him.

He pulled away from her, walking down the alleys. She tripped after him, three steps of hers barely equaling one of his. He slowed, letting her catch up with him, not wanting to lose her. The sky got even darker; the bars began to come to life and Jim reached out to grab her arm in case they bumped into someone.

A back door opened and a drunk stumbled out; Jim completely folded Melinda into his arms, literally pulling at his jacket to conceal her better, stopping stock still. He could feel and hear Melinda's breath; the rise of her chest underneath his arms that were tight around her body.

The man stumbled away and Jim led her farther down the alleys. "You haven't even asked where I live," she suddenly gasped, her voice too loud and Jim was hardpressed to not cover it with something...like his own. Only, considering her earlier, he wasn't sure that that would be quieter. Good god, what she could do him. What he had made her do earlier, just by touching her.

He felt his ears get hotter, remembering the exact prostitute that had taught him those moves; Dan had forced him to go into Bessie when he was only fourteen and he'd sworn, no matter how good it had turned out to be, that he wouldn't turn out like his brother; that he wouldn't take those lessons and run with them.

And he hadn't.

Melinda, he considered his first. Bessie didn't count.

Melinda was the first woman he'd brought to completion, just from touching her.

Even with the reaction from Bessie all those years ago, he'd never thought it would work that well or easily. Bringing Bessie to completion had taken so long, been nervewracking and painstaking.

But Melinda...had asked him a question.

"There's only one side of town a girl like you could live on," he said, his lust making his voice rougher than he'd intended and he could feel her shrinking away from him.

"A girl like me?" She almost spat the words, a few minutes later. "What, a slut?"

He spun around, feeling her yank her hand from him. "I didn't say that," he said, eyes fierce. "And I didn't mean it."

She shrank back even more, shivering a little in the night air, clutching her arms to her chest again, unwittingly elevating her voluptuous breasts.

"Then what did you mean?" She asked, voice shaking.

"I meant a girl of your...gentle breeding," he said, having no idea how to phrase it. "A nice girl like you."

"I'm a nice girl?" She questioned. "After all I've done? After what I did for the men in there? What I did with you?"

Jim exhaled, grabbed at her hand again to pull her onward but she kept her hands pinned tightly by her sides.

"Explain it to me," she said, voice a little wild. "I may hate what I've done with Kevin and regret it, but how am I still a nice girl after what I've done? What's the separation? Who's to say that all the whores in this area aren't nice girls then?"

Jim raked a frustrated hand through his hair, wondering what on earth she was questioning. "You aren't a whore," he said. "You never sold yourself to get money."

She closed her eyes. "I sold my voice to get money for Kevin."

"Not the same thing at all," he insisted. "And you didn't enjoy it."

"Maybe not that part, or with Kevin," she breathed.

"So that's why you're a nice girl," he said. "Because..."

"Because I didn't like it?" She said, voice shrill. "Because I liked it when it was you."

She ducked her head, not looking at him.

He felt his heart pound, and other parts of his anatomy with it.

"You wouldn't do it with someone else, or let someone else do it to you," Jim finally said. "No one but me."

The words hung in the air.

"And that makes me what?" She asked, looking up at him. "A nice girl?"

"Some girls seduce men intentionally," he said. "Using their body without regards to whether it would be a good thing for him or for her. And there are girls like you who want to find love, maybe, but would never ruin someone's life over it. That's what makes you nice. Maybe you're right. All the whores in the world were once virgins. Maybe they all started out the same and just didn't know how to get out. That's not the point. I've never condemned anyone for that."

She didn't look at him again, but let him take her hand, tug her onward.

They got out of the alleys, coming to the nicer neighborhoods. "Where do you live?" He asked. "Do I need to worry about a papa with a shotgun?"

She laughed, a sound with no joy in it. "I have no father," she said. "And my mother has meetings at church every night. That's why I've been able to slip away. I...I won't be caught."

She pointed out the way to him, silently, not speaking to him as they went.

He wasn't sure what to say.

They finally came to a tiny white clapboard house on the outskirts of the city.

Melinda wet her lips, looking at the fence in front of her.

"I won't see you again, will I?" She asked.

He shrugged, not liking that thought either.

"So what did that make me?" She finally asked, after a long moment of not moving. "What did...enjoying you make me?"

He let his hand fall onto her shoulder, relieved when she didn't shake it off.

He turned her on the spot, folding her into his arms, letting his lips descend to meet hers.

It was kiss of passion and regret; one that promised he'd remember her for always.

And then he pulled away.

"Does Kevin know where you live?" He asked, his arms still around her, reluctant to pull away.

"No," she said uncertainly. "I didn't...I didn't want mother seeing him."

"Do you think you'll be able to manage to avoid him?" Jim asked.

She lifted a delicate shoulder. "Maybe," she whispered. "If I could convince mother to let me go away to college."

"It would be for the best, you need to get away from him and all men like him," Jim said.

"You aren't like him so I hope...I hope you don't mean yourself," she whispered.

He clutched her to him. "I...oh god, Melinda. Get away from here. Don't let your life be ruined by someone like me."

"Jim," she pleaded.

He pulled away from her, feeling her absence like a winter snowstorm after a hot summer day.

"To answer your question, Miss Gordon," he said, tilting her head up to place one more kiss on her cherry lips, and being barely able to pull away a moment later. "It makes you mine," he said, eyes dark as he looked at her.

And then he left her behind.

It took all he had in him to not look back.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N : This chapter is ten years later...**

**Melinda was 17 at the beginning and now she's 27. I'm putting Jim's age as 23 at the start and 33 now. Enjoy ~ Meowser**

* * *

It was a new decade, and a new story had begun.

Dr. Jim Clancy stared at the little boy in front of him; his first patient. "Listen, this will pinch," he told him, as the boy squirmed away from his hand. "But it'll make you better. You won't get sick."

"He doesn't like needles," his mother said in too loud of a voice. "He's scared of them."

The little boy turned to face her, as if agreeing with everything she said; as if only realizing in that moment how right she was.

Jim almost groaned at the change in the boy's demeanor. Before just apprehensive because of the strange man poking him, now he was flat out terrified.

"You don't have to be scared," he said. "Now just hold still."

The boy's scream pierced the air before Jim even made contact.

He took advantage of the fact that the kid was already crying by pushing down on the needle.

Done.

"My goodness, I don't even know why I bothered," his mother huffed a few minutes later. "Is a vaccine really worth my boy sobbing the rest of the day?"

"It is, ma'am," Jim replied, trying to hold onto patience. "It's the only way to eradicate diseases."

"Well, next time I'll go to a more sympathetic doctor," she said. "I knew it was only asking for trouble to go the new man in town." She squinted at him. "What's a city boy like you doing all the way out here in Grandview anyway? Seems to me that you could only be escaping from trouble."

"Or the fact that my options were actually smaller in New York City than they are here," Jim said, challenging her.

Mistake.

She charged from the office, glaring at him, and pulling her son along with her.

Jim rubbed a hand over his forehead, unwinding the stethoscope from his neck. Damn it. This was not at all what he'd imagined it would be.

Realizing his own wisdom when he'd spoken to Melinda that night ten years ago, he'd taken his own advice and had left town. He'd gotten accepted to a college who only wanted you to pass their exams and he'd gone onto medical school afterwards, working (not as a bartender) at any place he could to scrape up the money for tuition.

There was one definite thing: he didn't take any dirty money from Dan. He wouldn't.

As far as he knew, Dan didn't even know where Jim was. And that suited Jim fine. His life was finally...clean.

He had only one regret.

One.

Melinda. Why hadn't he made sure to keep in touch with her? Why hadn't he listened to his heart that night, instead of the cold calculations of his brain? Why hadn't he made a plan for her that involved _him _staying in her life?

He'd gone back, just a week later, and the house was boarded up, getting ready to be sold.

He wondered what she'd told her strict mother.

He wondered if he'd ever see her again, but the thought of her...the memory of what they'd shared stayed with him, haunting him, pushing him onward as he worked to become a doctor, realize his dream, with the maybe unconscious desire, promise that...that when he'd reached his first dream, his second would come back to him. That if he managed to become a doctor, the universe would somehow bring Melinda back to him, as in a reward for deeds well done.

He wanted her.

He wanted her so much. There was hardly a night that went by that he didn't dream of her, either her beautiful voice, or her eyes staring up at him; the way she'd moved against him, the gasps she'd made, the feel of her touch on his skin...

He'd at first feared that the memory would dull, with the passage of time, but his nighttime wanderings kept her vibrant, real, so tuned to what she'd been that he could almost imagine her in his life now.

What would she look like?

He could barely breathe to imagine it.

She'd have lost some of the sharp angles in her face, he thought to himself. She wouldn't be so childlike, innocent in every way, with even a body that bespoke childhood.

She'd be a woman. She'd be a woman and she'd look like it; her face would have mellowed, but in a very good way; her curves would be more rounded, her body even more breathtaking.

She'd have a woman's eyes.

And a woman's figure and a woman's mind.

God forbid that she'd married.

He couldn't imagine the sweetness of the thought of Melinda pregnant, but he couldn't imagine the bitterness of the thought of it not being his child. If he wasn't the one who was able to see her grow, swell with child.

And yet, in all likelihood, that was what had happened. Why on earth would she wait for him? When he'd never asked? When he'd quite finally told her to leave Kevin's life and _his own _by extension?

His heart fell again, after its rise imagining how she'd look now.

There was almost no possibility that she remained unmarried. Almost none. And there seemed to be an even lesser chance that he'd ever see her again. He might try to hire a detective to track her down (that would be a good story for the radio!) but it seemed so farfetched, so impossible, when there was such a small chance the search would be fruitful...such a small chance that she'd even remember him.

That was the hardest blow, he reflected as he carefully put everything in his tiny doctor's office back into place since he didn't even have someone at the front desk yet; he didn't need it and could afford it even less. That she might not remember. That the memory of him had dulled; that at best he was a fond wisp of the past, maybe a turning point for the better, and at worse thought of a little better than Kevin.

He remembered her in his arms, crying out as she came, breasts hot under his mouth, eyes like fire.

He could never forget her. Never.

It broke his heart to think that she could forget him.

* * *

The depression had hit everyone hard, but somehow Melinda had escaped most of its scourge, though not all of it. Her mother was dead, having taken sick soon after the stock market crash, from the shock of losing her meager savings in what seemed to be a matter of seconds.

Yet in those final days, Melinda had seen a peace in her mother that she'd never seen before. "You're a smart girl, Melinda," she'd said wistfully. "This old world might take care of you as it never did me."

Her heart ached to remember it. She'd confessed almost everything to her mother that night, when she'd walked in the door and found Beth waiting.

Beth, upon hearing about Kevin, had spared no expense in getting Melinda as far away from him as possible; they'd found a college near a small town, Melinda got in and during those four years Beth had worked as a waitress to pay the bills.

In the end, they'd grown close. Melinda had graduated with full honors and Beth had been proud of her educated daughter.

And then she'd lost her. But Melinda took comfort in the fact that she hadn't lost Beth before she'd _gained _Beth.

She looked out the train window, remembering all the journeys she'd taken on trains before now; to what destinations they'd led. She remembered traveling with her mother when she was only six years old, when they'd first moved to New York City after the death of her father.

She remembered leaving NYC with her mother at her side, clinging to valises and terrified that Kevin would show up at any second.

Terrified that Jim wouldn't.

She'd left most of Jim out of her confession to her mother. She hadn't left out that he'd rescued her.

But she'd left out the more important parts, the other ways he'd saved her. She'd left out the blue of his eyes, and the ripple of muscle in his arms. She'd left out the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands against her skin. She'd left out the way he'd touched her, made her feel.

She'd left the best of him out. She'd left out the part where she was in love with him. She'd left out the part where everyday her heart ached for him, wished she hadn't left without finding out...well, at least his last name!

She didn't even know his last name! There was no possible way to find her.

At twenty seven Melinda was most definitely a spinster, though most people didn't use that word anymore. There had been boys, and even men, that had interested her. Rick Payne came to mind. A dazzling scholar, he'd caught her interest through most of college, and he'd even returned it.

But through it all, overshadowing him, was Jim. The memory of him. Dreaming of him.

She'd dreamed of him almost every single night. She'd always thought that time would dull her memory of him, that she'd forget him as she'd forgotten her father, but her heart remembered him for her, and for that she was ever thankful.

The image of Jim, looking up at his face as he clasped her tightly in his arms, was forever ingrained on her mind.

She could remember his voice almost perfectly. She'd never forget the way he'd said her name.

Never.

And it broke her heart that she'd never see him again. That she'd forever live with wondering what had happened to him and she was always so worried.

Had his brother's gang been too much? Had he gotten caught up in it and lost his life? There had been so much violence before prohibition was finally recalled. For god's sake, he could have lost his life being a bartender in a speakeasy. The police had gotten so brutal towards some of those nightclubs.

Had he managed to escape with his life intact? If so, was he a doctor now?

Her breath caught to imagine Jim as a doctor, tall and strong and, she was sure, very capable. She remembered the few exams she'd ever gotten, administered by old men who didn't give a damn, and wondered what it would be like to get examined by Jim.

Her cheeks flushed just to think about it, and this was always when her imagination slowed; when reality crept in.

Doctors had wives.

If he was a doctor, then a handsome, wonderful man like him was sure to have a wife.

And it was laughable to think that he'd have remembered Melinda for all these years. A man like him had to have had dozens of encounters over the years, and much more memorable than her. She hadn't even...pleasured him. He'd done all the work himself.

She flushed, remembering what else she'd learned of the sexual act during biology classes in college, reflecting that Jim was truly a remarkable man to have done that to her. So many men wouldn't bother. So many men wouldn't be successful. So many men would have been like Kevin, only concerned with their own pleasure.

Even Kevin didn't frighten her anymore. She'd faced many men like him in college and successfully conquered them, and through that conquered all fear of Kevin she'd ever had. She felt confident that if she ever even saw him again she'd be able to face him, throw back everything he'd ever done and said back into his face, rebuke him, stand strong.

He was just a bully.

Well, thanks in part to Jim, Melinda was no longer a victim.

And here she was, going out into the wide, wide world, just waiting for her next opportunity. She'd been offered a job as a teacher's assistant in Grandview, New York; it was the brother of her favorite professor and she'd jumped at the chance to further spread her wings.

Life in the small town she'd lived in with her mother hadn't been the same after Beth's death, and Melinda missed the city, yet not enough to go back. She just wanted something a bit...more.

And Grandview seemed to be that. It promised commerce and a bit more excitement; but not too much. It was a college town; something that Melinda appreciated.

As she looked out the window, she could see signs that she was getting closer, and then the conductor was marching down the aisle, bellowing:

"Next stop, Grandview, New York!"


	6. Chapter 6

Melinda hopped off the train, swinging her one suitcase beside her. It had astounded her when, back in Grove Town, PN, she'd realized how few things she'd truly prized enough to take with her on this journey. Most of her clothes, well, were just clothes. She'd donated many of them to a poor family her mother had gone to church with and just took her favorites, and the most useful ones.

She had packed up her troubles in her kit bag and she intended to smile. The Great War was over, and the stock market may have crashed, but life was looking up. She was free as a bird and she couldn't find more than one thing that she wasn't happy about.

She sighed, biting her lip.

Jim would always be in her mind, standing there at the bar of her imagination, serving drinks to a crowd of rowdy men and staring at her, blue eyes never looking away for more than a second.

She shivered in the hot sunlight just remembering it.

Following street signs, and the letter from Professor James she'd been carrying all this time, she made her way to Main St. and the boarding house there she'd been recommended to.

First things first, she had to get settled. She pulled out the other letter from Mrs. Banks, looking at the address. 401.

There was a cozy house, right in front her, tiny and, if she hadn't known beforehand that it was a boarding house, she would never have believed it.

There was a teenage boy out front, mowing the lawn, and he looked up when she walked past, trim and neat in her new orange suit.

"Hello," she called out, smiling. "Is this the Banks boarding house?"

"Well, yes, but we aren't a boarding house by any means," the boy said, stretching to his full height. "Miss...Godrick?"

"Gordon," she said, frowning a little.

"Gordon," he confirmed. "We rent out a room sometimes when ma's short of money but we aren't really a boarding house."

"Ah," she said. "Do you have a selective process?"

"Anyone who's recommended by a family friend," he said, reaching a dirty hand out, flushing and wiping it on his pants before offering it again. "Ned Banks."

"Delia's son," she said, pleased, smiling at him. "She wrote about you."

"Ma's at the store now," Ned said. "But I can take you into the room if you like."

"Please," Melinda said. "It's getting hot and I'd like to cool down a bit."

"Yeah," Ned agreed, looking up at the sun overhead, and led her into the house, carefully wiping his bare feet on the mat there.

"Here's the kitchen," he said a bit shyly. "It's small but Ma will let you cook your own meals if you don't want to eat what she cooks. But she's a good cook. If you want to pay a dollar extra a week, she'll cook meals for you. Maybe she included that in the letter."

"Indeed," Melinda said. "I'll probably have to take her up on that. I am no cook. My mother had an expert hand at a stove and I just never thought I'd need to learn."

Ned looked at her, a little puzzled by the statement. "You don't plan on cooking for a husband then?"

Melinda shrugged. "Well, who says he won't want to cook for me?"

Ned burst out laughing. "That's something I've never considered," he laughed. "Well, then, good luck on that, Miss Gordon."

"Melinda," she said warmly. "Please. Miss Gordon is for at work, for my stuffy professor boss to call me."

"Who are you working for?" He asked, leading her into the next rooms; a cozy living room with a hallway leading off of it. "As you can see, we have no dining room."

"Believe me, this is almost a palace considering what I'm used to," Melinda said gladly. "And it must be easy for your mother to clean. It's Professor James. He needs a hand with things. It wasn't quite clear what my exact position would be."

"Oh ho ho," Ned said, chuckling. "You might be in for trouble then."

"Hmm?" Melinda wondered.

"I say nothing against him," Ned said. "He knows his subject. He's just a little..."

"A little what?" Melinda said. "Do I need to fear for myself?"

"No!" Ned said, laughing. "He's a little touched in the head. Crazy. Talks to himself. But he's genius, no doubt."

Melinda nodded. "How...intriguing."

"Just be prepared to meet someone like you've never even known before," Ned said, still chuckling. "All right now. This is your bedroom, the third door on the left."

He opened the door for her and Melinda exclaimed. "Ned, it's beautiful!"

"Is it?" He asked, bashful. "My mother wanted to redecorate a little when she heard you were coming. She sewed new curtains and sheets."

"It's wonderful, so light and blue," Melinda said. "And that desk, I love it!"

She turned to smile at him. "I think I'm going to like it here, if only for this room," she said.

Ned nodded. "Well, that's a good thing then. I'll leave you to get settled and, uh, send my ma in when she gets home."

"Thank you," Melinda said, meaning every word.

As optimistic as she'd been, she'd never expected this.

Life was most definitely looking up.

* * *

"I need what?" Melinda asked at the front office of Rockland University. "I don't understand. I was told I'd gotten the job."

"You did," Mrs. Curtis answered. "But it is policy for every new employee to pass a physical examination. We had a very nasty breakout of pneumonia last year and half of our faculty nearly lost our lives. We cannot vet our students like this but we can vet our employees."

"Well, alright," Melinda said. "I, uh, I just need the doctor's number then."

"We have three doctors in town," Mrs. Curtis said. "Dr. Bell. He's the preferred one, but he's bound to be booked from here to September next year. There's Dr. Hardy but I don't really recommend him. And there's a new doctor in town, a Dr. Clancy. His appointment book will be open. I wouldn't be surprised if you called him today and he was willing to see you now."

"Ah," Melinda said. "Do you know his number?"

"Just ask the operator for it, dear," Mrs. Curtis said, and waved her off.

She wouldn't even be allowed to meet with Professor James without this clearance! How ridiculous.

She strode away from the university, feeling her shoes pinch a bit. She'd taken off almost immediately, before Delia had even gotten back. She'd planned to stay and meet her host, but she'd wanted to get things more settled after hearing what Professor James was like and had taken off, waving a hurried goodbye to Ned.

Now she was regretting that. Her feet hurt and it was a long walk back to town.

She saw a phone booth and stopped, fishing a dime from her pocketbook.

"Operator? May I have Dr. Clancy's office?"

"Just a moment please," the operator answered.

Melinda sagged against one wall of the booth, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"Hello?"

The voice was smooth, silken, deep.

He didn't a receptionist, that was for sure.

"Is this Dr. Clancy's office?" She asked.

"Yes, it is," he answered. "The doctor himself speaking. What can I do for you?"

"I need an appointment," she said. "I've gotten a job at Rockland U and they only just told me I need to pass a physical examination to obtain it."

* * *

Jim heard the voice, his heart skipping a beat. So feminine. Almost a drawl.

He knew he was a doctor and shouldn't think the way he was thinking right now, but he couldn't imagine examining a woman like the one on the phone right now. Her voice was enough to make him hard.

"I, uh, have an open book," he said. "When do you want to come in?"

"Tomorrow morning won't be soon enough for me," she answered. "I need certification that I don't have any deadly illnesses."

"Of course," he said, wondering what such an examination might entail. Good god, he was a doctor. He had to get it together. This was such a betrayal of trust.

"My office opens at 8:30 sharp," he said.

"Put me down for it," she answered.

It was only after he'd hung up that he realized he hadn't gotten her name, further proof that he was lost without a receptionist. He shook his head, wondering why he even thought it would matter. After all, she'd be the only person walking into his office tomorrow. The only.

He mused over her voice for a long moment after the phone was back on the hook. The only time he could remember being that affected by just a woman's voice was, well, back in the city. Melinda. Her singing. Her huskiness after, once her vocal cords were spent.

This woman's voice had reminded him of that, he realized. The same basic intonations and tone.

He was a lost cause. His second patient would be his last if he didn't find a way to control himself by tomorrow.

He picked up a medical textbook, feeling a bit manic.

He had to remember that he was a professional and she was his patient. That was all there was to it.

Besides, it was just her voice. She was probably an old married woman (despite that she had sounded rather young, young and seductive, sure to have a body to match...) who needed to supplement her husband's income after the stock market crash.

He breathed in. Just her voice.

He pictured in his mind a woman older than himself, with some kids in school, a husband to feed.

Yes. Just keep that picture in mind and he should be fine.

* * *

Melinda stepped out of the phone booth, pulling at her orange suit jacket. She'd planned to change but her impromptu trip down to Rockland U had derailed all of those plans.

She was suffocating in this heat.

She hurried down the street, knowing that she'd be the talk of the town if she removed her jacket. That was how small towns operated. And yet...she was a ways out of town yet.

She unbuttoned the jacket, pulling it from her body, knowing what a sight she'd make in her short sleeved blouse, what with how it was sticking to her.

Well, if she brought scandal on her head, so be it. This was too relieving for her to care.

She idly waved her hand in front of her face, wishing for a breeze to cool her down even more.

She reflected on the doctor's voice, feeling herself warm again, exactly the opposite of what she needed.

She'd expected an elderly man, even though Mrs. Curtis had warned he was new in town. Of course he'd be young.

But did his voice have to sound so good? Have to send shivers up and down her spine? Have to make in between her thighs more moist than it was already from the weather?

She closed her eyes, remembering its smoothness. _I, uh, have an open book. When do you want to come in?_

She'd felt like he was seducing her. A voice like that, it wouldn't matter what he said.

She moved a nervous hand over her waist, wondering how tomorrow would turn out. As she'd been reflecting on the train, doctors got married and had wives. There was no way he was single, so she didn't have to worry about it.

The thought stopped her a little, remembering the _why _behind thinking of doctors on the train. Jim.

His voice had been so like Jim's. No wonder she'd been so affected by it.

She cleared her throat in the summer air, feeling herself only getting more flushed.

It was time to get home, though. Meet Delia.

She chuckled to realize that she already thought of that little house as home.

* * *

Jim left his office at a quarter to six, not waiting around for the top of the hour to leave. No one was coming in.

He hurried outside, wishing he had an automobile. It was a long walk to his apartment and usually he didn't mind it, but today was so hot...

He pulled at his collar, looking across the street. His office wasn't even at a good place; at the very edge of the commercial district; across the street were houses and not stores.

A woman was walking up the hill, to Mrs. Bank's house.

Jim felt himself stopping to watch, feeling sweat drop down his brow.

She was dressed in an orange suit but she'd taken the jacket off because of the weather, he surmised.

Her figure was...enough to wipe away all thoughts of his mystery caller. Just the contrast of wide to slim to wide again, almost an hourglass, made Jim a little lightheaded despite the weather. He watched the sway of her hips and his breath seemed to desert him.

He turned quickly away before she noticed him looking. That wouldn't do. And he didn't like to be that man, the one who just sat on street corners and whistled at women who walked by.

But he couldn't help looking at _that _one.

Even a saint would be forgiven for looking.

He stole one more glance over his shoulder at her slim, perfect legs beneath her suit's skirt, and quickly glanced away, heading in the opposite direction down the hill. Thank god.


	7. Chapter 7

Melinda met Delia, and was very pleased with the older woman. She was cheerful and friendly, and very glad to meet Melinda.

"Ned told me that you'd arrived, but you weren't here," she chuckled. "Is the room to your liking?"

"It's gorgeous," Melinda said. "The blue walls...I've never lived in a such a pretty room."

Delia chuckled. "Well, I'm glad you like it that much. I didn't think it was anything special; just Ned putting on a coat of paint or two."

"I have to thank you for letting me into your home without ever meeting me," Melinda said.

"We had you on good recommendation from dear friends," Delia said. "I'm always glad to open my home to deserving young women." She smiled at Melinda. "I sometimes think I married too soon, so it pleased me to see that you are a career woman."

"And a spinster," Melinda said, laughing. Delia, surprised at the words, finally joined in.

"Well, there's that too that surprised me," she admitted. "How is it that you don't have a man?"

"I couldn't find another one after…" Melinda trailed off, not sure how to put it.

Delia sighed. "I lost my husband too, as I'm sure you can tell. I understand."

"He didn't die," Melinda blurted. "But I don't know how to find him. He's...lost to me. Probably married by now, with children and dogs and a wife who was much prettier than I'll ever be." She shrugged. "I'm sorry. I just...still wonder about him."

"Well, couldn't you find him again, at least find out if your theory is true?" Delia asked.

"I don't know his last name, that's the crazy thing," Melinda said. "I knew him for six weeks, six glorious weeks, and I never thought to learn his last name."

"It must have been quite a romance," Delia said, smiling at Melinda.

"You might call it that," Melinda said, ducking her head. "So. We should talk business. I will, indeed, pay you that dollar a week to cook for me. I have been living out of diners since my mother died, I'm ashamed to say. I just never learned how to cook."

"That's a unique quality in a woman," Delia joked. "But why not? Anything you specially like or dislike?"

"Not really," Melinda said. "I'd eat anything you put in front of without complaining."

"Well, of course, but you do you like anything?" Delia wondered. "I could make your favorite dish. It wouldn't be a large matter for me."

"I like Jello," Melinda admitted. "Brand name Jello. It's so economical, too. And the recipes you make with just one package…" She smiled sheepishly. "I think I've been listening to too many radio commercials, but it's one thing I actually make for myself."

"I just happen to have a box of cherry," Delia said. "And you're right. It is cheap."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to go unpack now," Melinda said, picking up her orange jacket from where she'd laid it on the back of a chair. "Unless you'd like help with dinner?"

"I can do it," Delia said, pulling some potatoes from a bag. "We'll just be having spinach, potatoes and sausage, and those are easy enough. And jello, of course."

"Thank you," Melinda said, her voice getting a bit husky. "I, uh, didn't expect you to be so friendly and...I'm grateful."

Delia smiled at her in return. "It's just who I am," she said, brushing off the compliment. "And it's easy to be friendly to someone like you."

"Well, thank you for that," Melinda said, and left the room, going down the hallway to her bedroom. She heard Delia turn on the radio in the kitchen, to a news program.

Her mother had always listened to the radio when she cooked too. It had been her one indulgence.

Melinda felt tears rise to her eyes, and a lump form in her throat. She missed her mother. Sometimes she could remember with a smile, and sometimes the memories just jumped back at her, the sacrifices Beth Gordon had made for her daughter.

She shut the door to her room, pulling off her orange suit and carefully hanging it up. She'd need it to be fresh again for tomorrow, since she only had two suits to wear.

She wondered what she should wear to her examination. A house dress would be more practical, but was it formal enough to visit a doctor?

She looked at her three house dresses, each made of simple cotton; one was light blue dotted with orange blossoms; one was red and spread with tiny greens plants and one was light green checked. Each were nipped at the waist, showing off her figure as the styles of the day dictated, yet much more relaxed than styles of the past. She'd thanked God Himself when the flapper dress went out of style, finally feeling like she could breathe again in these new dresses.

She'd wear the green checked, she decided. He was just a doctor, after all. There was no use worrying about it too much.

She unpacked her suitcase; one more suit, the three dresses and underwear. She'd have to buy more things eventually, she recognized, but that could come later when she'd earned more money and had more places to go in town.

She'd like to have a party dress, she realized, feeling a bit foolish for that desire. It was such an impractical item, but she liked looking pretty. What girl didn't, after all?

She sighed, carefully folding her stockings, underwear and brassieres, sliding them into a bureau drawer. They were all light but sturdy, much more durable and comfortable than clothing styles ten years ago. She was so thankful that the times had changed.

She changed into one of her house dresses; the blue floral one, and headed back into the kitchen, barefoot. She felt the beginnings of a blister on one heel and vowed to ask Dr. Clancy about that tomorrow.

As she walked into the kitchen, she heard voices outside; Delia was at the stove humming along to a gay tune on the radio and she slipped back the older woman, curious.

Ned was on the porch swing, with a young girl about his age; 17. She was very pretty, with a heart shaped face, warm brown eyes and curly brunette hair in a slightly longer bob than most of the day.

The one way Melinda didn't follow the fashions were that she'd kept her long hair. It was her one vanity, she realized, stepping out onto the porch.

Ned looked up in surprise, tearing his eyes from the girl in front of him with a little difficulty. And no wonder, considering the figure she had to match her piquant face.

"Miss Gordon," he greeted, jumping up. "This is Katie Gregory, my...girlfriend." He smiled down at her rather shyly, dimples showing in his face.

"I was just about to go," Katie admitted, standing with him. She was very tall, with long legs that seemed to go on forever, standing almost more than a head taller than Melinda. "So you're…?"

"Melinda," Melinda offered, sticking out her hand. "I'd love to get to know you while I'm staying here."

"That would be nice," Katie said shyly, showing some dimples herself. "Papa will be wanting me home for dinner, Ned."

"I'll let you two say goodbye," Melinda said, ducking back inside.

She saw Ned take Katie's hand and squeeze it, leading her down the walk.

"He always walks her home," Delia sighed, watching with her. "He's more than head over heels for the girl. I'm a bit worried, but she's a good girl with a nice family. I just don't want them to move too fast."

"I feel the same," Melinda said. "Such romance, though. Wouldn't anyone want to go back to being seventeen and in love?" She bit her lip. "I know I would."

Delia nodded with her. "For me it's nineteen," she said sagely. "That was when I met my Charlie."

"How did he...pass?" Melinda wondered.

"He got sick," Delia sighed. "When Ned was only seven. He lingered for a few years but passed before Ned's ninth birthday. I miss him. Every single day."

Melinda placed a hand on Delia's shoulder. "It never stops hurting," she said. "But what I've learned is...you can smile." She felt a sob in her throat, stifling it. "I can remember my mother and smile."

"Exactly," Delia said.

"Let me help you set the table," Melinda urged.

* * *

"You're early," his landlady commented, sharp eyes piercing him.

"I had another day with only one patient," Jim reluctantly admitted. "But I got a call requesting a physical examination tomorrow so I am doing well."

She laughed. "You're easy to please," she commented. "Well, dinner isn't ready yet."

"What are you making tonight?" He asked, leaning over her pot.

"Soup," she said.

"Again?" He asked. "You know, I could make dinner some night. It's not like I'll be stuck at the office and I don't want you waiting on me hand and foot."

"You just hate my cooking," she replied.

"That too," he joked, letting her swat at him.

"You're paying for meals," she said. "I don't mind the extra cooking. Makes me remember my husband." She got a far off look in her eyes. "He liked my cooking. Even the simplest of things would make him happy. And my banana pudding he'd die for."

"I'm glad you had that," Jim said.

"Speaking of, how is it that a handsome young man like yourself, a doctor no less, isn't married yet?" She asked, eyes piercing him again, totally back in the moment.

"I haven't found the right woman," Jim said, meaning every word to a point she wouldn't hear or understand.

"You aren't...a man lover, are you?" She asked, looking straight at him. "Because you have been here for two months and not once have you let one of those ladies who've approached you stick around."

"No!" Jim said. "I mean it. I'm looking for the right woman, and believe me, when I find her...there is nothing that will stop me from marrying her." He frowned. "Unless she's already married."

"You're talking about someone in particular, aren't you?" She asked slyly.

"Maybe," he admitted.

"The one that got away," she sighed romantically. "When did you know her?"

"Ten years ago," he breathed. "She was six years younger than me and fell in with a bad boy, but she wasn't stupid. She loved him, but she could still see that it wouldn't last, she just...wanted it to. And then…" He trailed off, as she had done, lips parting. "Everything changed. She left him. We...shared a moment." Or two. "And then she was gone. To get away from him. But I never...never saw her again."

"You should hire one of those radio detectives to find her," she commented, snapping green beans. "Or that Nick Carter fellow in the comics."

"He'd make short work of it," Jim admitted. "But...I don't know. There's no way a girl like her hasn't gotten married yet. Unlike me, I doubt she remembers any of it."

"Oh, I don't know if I'd forget a man who rescued me," she said.

"I never said that I rescued her," he said, startled.

"Any man who helps a lady get away from a bad boy without expecting anything in return is her rescuer," she said pertly. "You did a good thing, Jim Clancy."

"Well, it doesn't matter," Jim sighed. "I...I probably should try to find someone new."

"Well, don't hurry yourself," she said. "Now go wash up for dinner."

* * *

Melinda pulled a nightgown over her head, shimmying so that the fabric fell neatly. This was another one of her extravagances; a real silk nightgown. She'd spent almost her whole paycheck on it one week, unable to help herself.

She carefully braided her hair, pulling the hair back from her forehead a bit sharply, knowing that her hair would be curly tomorrow for doing it.

The tail of the braid curled around as she tied it with a ribbon; it fell to her breast when she let it go, climbing into bed.

Would she say her prayers? She wondered, remembering how strong her mother's faith had always been. "Bless all my loved ones," she settled for. "And thank you for this new situation. Life is good. Amen."

She slid the blankets up higher, gazing up at the ceiling above her, wondering how long it would take her to fall asleep.

_"I don't have any lemonade, Miss Gordon. Unfortunately."_

She shivered, bucking a little at the totally unexpected memory, how crystal clear the memory of his voice was after a whole ten years.

_"Turn around."_

She shifted a little, biting back a whimper, remembering every touch of his hands, almost feeling the pain of the binding.

_"I can't find the end."_ The strain of his voice, the tremble in his hands. She swallowed, lifting her hips slightly, letting her nightgown slide up.

_"You're perfect...do they hurt still? From the binding?"_

Yes. They did.

Melinda lifted one hand to her breast, barely cognizant of what she was doing. She'd never touched herself intentionally, purposefully. After some particularly vivid dreams of him, she had...well...finished the job herself, remembering Jim's fingers inside her.

But she'd never started out a night with him.

Maybe...maybe she'd never dream of him again. Maybe this was a turning point in her life and if she didn't remember now she'd lose him forever, all over again.

_"They're perfect. I don't know...what men you've met…but no man would ever tell you that there was such a thing as too big. Not when it comes to breasts."_

She remembered the pauses in his voice, the struggle to speak when looking at her, and she lifted her hand up.

_"I think I could make them feel better."_

It was like his hands were guiding hers, and she gently cupped one breast in her own, closing her eyes and picturing his face, so intent upon her bare skin.

The weight of one made her gasp, and she carefully rolled one hesitant finger over her nipple, through the fabric of the nightgown.

She wanted...she wanted his mouth there. There was no substitute for his mouth. Her hands she could make believe, though they weren't nearly as large or as rough, but his mouth…

She felt herself beginning to be short of breath, and slid her hand up her thigh, to the whisper soft and exceedingly sensitive skin there, almost letting a moan slip past her lips, closing her eyes even tighter, trying to summon Jim.

One finger slipped inside. She pretended it was Jim, letting herself buck against the touch, gasping. She found her core, rolling her fingers over the nub there, bringing her other hand back to her breasts, teasing the nipple, tugging at it, trying to simulate as best she could Jim's mouth tugging at it.

No. No, he'd kissed her then, silencing her cries as she came in his arms. She wet her lips, brought her fingers there, frantically tried to make up for it.

She came, a few painstaking moments later, not nearly as good as it had been when he'd done it.

She breathed hard, bringing her pulse down, assuring herself that she'd been quiet. And she had. Almost too quiet.

It wasn't enough.

She rolled over and forced herself to fall asleep.

_A hot mouth on her breast, hands on her waist, grazing down to cup her ass, pulling her nearer to him. Hot skin, muscled body._

_She arched into the touch, gasping to realize that Jim was in her bedroom._

_"You've missed me, haven't you?" He asked, leaning down to press another kiss to her breast. "You tried so hard."_

_"It wasn't good enough," she whimpered. "I needed you there to help."_

_He laughed, lazily placing his hands on her forearms, pinning her to the bed and letting himself press against her. She gasped, moaned, tried to bring herself even closer to his body, to the heat of him._

_His lips were on her breast, tugging at the nipple, the wet heat of his mouth was pulling her closer. She threaded her hands into his hair, into the short curls there, making him gasp with her intensity._

_"Be careful, there, my love," he whispered against her skin. "It wouldn't do to make your husband bald."_

_Husband? Was she that lucky?_

_His mouth traced kisses down her stomach, sucking at the skin there, and Melinda realized what his destination was. My god. He meant to kiss her, where his hands had been._

_She remembered the feel of his mouth on her breasts and his fingers inside her, wondering how much better his mouth had felt tugging at her nipple, and how much better it could feel if he kissed her between her thighs too._

_She felt like screaming from how good it felt. His lips were on her thighs, gently ghosting up them, his tongue was flicking at the indent, and he was staring at the curls there._

_My god, he was actually about to do it._

_She could feel his breath there, heating her, and he pressed another kiss to her thigh, and she tried to move her body closer._

_"Don't rush this, darling," he whispered, blowing hot air on her core, and she felt like bolting into the air. She was gasping for breath, and her breasts were tingling, wanting him there again but not nearly as much as she wanted him down there._

_He finally got closer, his mouth promised to be wet, to be hot and to pleasure her beyond belief._

Melinda jerked awake, lay there in bed gasping, wondering if she'd made any noises, cried out. She hoped not. She expected not, since she'd had similar dreams in college and not once had her roommate scolded her for it.

She felt like crying, she was so angry. She'd been so unbelievably close, only for it to be cut short like it had.

* * *

Jim entered the examination room the next morning, pulling gloves on. She was already dressed in an exam gown, ties loose around her waist, face downcast. He felt like he couldn't breathe from how her breasts were straining against the unforgiving fabric of the white cotton gown, from how he could see her nipples were hard peaks. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't let himself go there, do this.

And then she looked up. She looked up and it was Melinda sitting there.

"Jim?" She gasped, her voice just as he remembered it.

"Melinda," he moaned, his eyes sweeping over every inch of her as if to confirm that she was here, she was real, she was complete.

"I remember you," she said. "I've always remembered you."

"I can't believe it," he gasped.

"I'm so glad to see you again," she whispered.

Jim stepped forward, placed his hand on her shoulder to confirm that she was real.

Her hands were nervous, fiddling with the ties at her waist.

Jim leaned forward, and her eyes darkened; she flicked her tongue out to wet her lips.

His lips touched hers. He gasped as she returned the kiss, her enthusiasm floored him.

Her hands were moving, he could feel them between them, and then she was pressing herself to him and he could tell even through the fabric of his dress shirt and undershirt that she'd untied the gown, that she'd bared herself to him.

Their kiss was frantic, needy. He lowered her back onto the table, situating her, before climbing onto it himself, straddling her.

The view she made was utter perfection. Her breasts called out to him, proud and free and naked to his touch and gaze.

She moaned as he lowered his head down, tasting her breasts again, as he slid his hands down her hips, finding the skin of her thigh.

She was helping him, unbuttoning his pants. He was panting, unable to breathe, and she was forcing his trousers down.

"I want you inside me," she begged.

And everything was going so fast. Jim's boxers were down, and she was gazing greedily at him, and he pressed into her, slowly, and she was tightening around him, then expanding to fit him.

He rocked against her, going deeper, making her only react more, grab at him, pull him closer. "I love you," she panted. "I always did. I never forgot. Never."

"I can't believe you waited for me," he whispered, thrusting into her, bringing them both closer.

* * *

It was then that Jim woke up, feeling himself harder than he'd ever been. He'd been inside her. He had. It had been so vivid. So real.

He was gasping, trying to bring his mind off of her, thinking that he'd probably already been too loud.

But he couldn't help it. He had to help himself or he wouldn't even survive this erection. He grabbed hold of himself, and it only took a few touches to make him shatter, almost crying at the relief he felt.

Oh god.

Well, it was a good thing that he'd dreamt about it first. Now no matter who sat on the table tomorrow morning, he'd be able to handle it. Even if it was Barbara Stanwyck herself, vamp of the big screen.

Even if it was Melinda.

At least that's what he promised himself.

He laughed at himself, so desperate for a woman that his body could conjure her up so clearly. So starved for an emotional connection that he could dream up sexual encounters but not clearly enough to finish satisfyingly.

Damn it. Damn it all.


	8. Chapter 8

She didn't sleep well, and her neck felt stiff when she woke up, far too early, at just past seven a.m.

She got out of bed, her mind too awake to let herself drift back to sleep, slipped a robe on and washed her face in the tiny, shared bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror briefly.

Why was she so tense about this? It was a physical examination, for goodness sake. And, maybe, the doctor had had a compelling voice and she was feeling shy because of that. Because her overactive imagination was conjuring up all sorts of inappropriate scenarios.

She bit her lip and hurried back to her room. She'd taken a bath last night and now brushed her hair out, feeling pleased with how nicely it rippled down her back, down past her shoulders, carefully twisting it into a bun and firmly pinning it up on her neck, twisting the front ends a little, fiddling with her hair far longer than she usually did.

One would think she'd never talked to a man before. Quite the contrary, she and her mother had gone to a male doctor back home.

He hadn't had such a compelling voice, though. Not at all. He'd been older, and kind, and she'd trusted him enough to let her examine him.

And he most definitely hadn't made her feel like melting just from having a phone conversation with the man.

She slipped underwear on, and the new fashioned bra, again reflecting on how times had changed before dressing in the green checked house dress, as she'd decided upon yesterday.

It flattered her, she knew, though it was hard for these new styles to not flatter anyone; slimmer or curvier, they made everyone look nice, what with how they called attention to the waist, the slimmest part of most women's bodies, and let the bust and hip lines speak for themselves, not calling undue attention to them, but not trying to diminish them either.

She buttoned the front, straightened the collar and left her bedroom; the clock read 7:35, and Delia was coming out of her own bedroom, hair twisted in a tight bun on top of her head.

"Good morning," she said warmly. "Speak softly; I like to let Ned sleep in during the summer."

"Of course," Melinda replied, copying the woman's softer tone. She followed Delia to the kitchen.

"Is there anything you especially like for breakfast?" She asked casually, pulling an apron on.

"Oh, I don't know that I feel particularly hungry," Melinda apologized. "I guess my mind decided that an examination was something to be worried about and I feel positively queasy."

"Oh goodness, the things my body does when I get nervous," Delia chuckled. "My hands go slippery."

"My stomach is jumping," Melinda sighed. "Maybe just some coffee?"

"And a muffin," Delia announced. "I'll just whip up a quick batch and you can eat that before leaving. It'll be nice and light; it won't bother you at all."

"Thank you," Melinda said. "I can put on the coffee, though, my experience in a kitchen does extend to that."

"Go ahead," Delia said, pointing out the coffee pot and big can of coffee.

"Do you tend to put egg shells in with the grounds?" Melinda asked.

"No, I don't find it necessarily improves the taste," Delia said, beating eggs and oil together.

"My mother did," Melinda said. "But I have to admit that I never noticed a difference."

"Here's an egg shell, if you want to," Delia offered.

"No, I won't," Melinda said, laughing a little before carefully measuring out the water and coffee beans.

Once the pot was ready, and beginning to heat, Melinda watched for a moment as Delia continued to bustle around the kitchen, measuring flour and sugar, humming a little and not minding the world around her.

"I think I'll go sit on the porch for a moment," she said.

"Could you bring the paper in when you come back?" Delia asked, and Melinda nodded, slipping outside.

The world was wet with dew; cool and clear, something that would most definitely not remain throughout the day.

She could already sense that it was going to be hot, from the way she didn't shiver at all.

She sat on the porch swing, pushing off a little, arms folded over her chest as she looked at the world around her. It was such a small, peaceful town.

She wondered if she could grow to live living here in Grandview.

* * *

One cup of coffee and two scrambled eggs later, Jim was gargling baking soda to freshen his breath before going to the office.

It was 8:15 and he didn't want to be late on the day he actually had a patient.

Why had he said his earliest appointment was 8:30? It wasn't like it mattered. He should have said nine, or even 9:30. Of course, he couldn't have predicted that he wouldn't sleep that night yesterday afternoon while scheduling it.

Mrs. Davis bustled past him. "You need to get going," she scolded. "You'll be late."

"Then you should have started breakfast earlier," he teased. "If you were going to make me eat it."

"You don't need to faint in the lap of your first patient," she griped. "Nice way to thank me for keeping you healthy."

"Thank you," he said, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled cheek.

"Get off with you," she said, smiling anyway.

He dashed from the house, walking at a fast pace up the street to where his office was, just a few blocks away.

The walk had never seemed long before but now that he had an actual patient, he was feeling just a tad stressed, breathing a sigh of relief when, ten minutes later, he got to his office and there was no one waiting there.

He quickly unlocked the door and opened the curtains in the waiting room, again considering if he should invest in a receptionist, hurrying through his office to let light in.

He then walked to the front desk, finding the information sheet she'd need to fill out, placing it out front.

He needed to take his jacket off and put his doctor's coat on, he reflected, racing to the back room and changing quickly, feeling frazzled and not at all like the calm, mature doctor he wanted, needed to be if he hoped to make a living in this town.

He breathed in, and out, and in again, hearing the door to his office open, and casually walked through the corridors.

He saw her from the back first, blinking a little to make sure he wasn't just imagining it. The swell of her hips in a light green checked house dress. The bounty of hair twisted tightly up on the neck, not hidden by her hat. The way her waist slimmed from her hips and then swelled again.

If he was finding it hard to breathe, he knew why.

She was carefully closing the door behind her and Jim's mind and eyes raced, tracing over her legs before jerking up to her face the moment before she turned around.

Brown eyes looked up at him. Lips parted.

Jim stared at her, his own mouth falling open. Could it...no.

That was impossible. He knew that.

And yet, the way her eyes were flying over him, outright staring, examining him...her arms, her chin, her cheekbones…

She was...she couldn't be, and yet…

If she was...she was all he'd ever imagined she'd be. Her face was softer, touched by age, and her figure seemed to have an extra curve to it; maybe her waist wasn't as small but her bust and hips seemed to have expanded with it, leaving her shape unchanged.

"I...I'm Dr. Clancy," he stammered, reaching blindly for the paper and handing it out to her with a pen. "Please, fill this out."

She nodded, unspeaking, eyes huge, breathing rapid. His gaze shot to her chest and he wanted to slap himself.

Her hands were shaking but she carefully wrote in the form, in firm, elegant script, handing it back to him in a moment.

He read the words at the top of the page and his heart seemed to stop.

_Melinda Irene Gordon._

He reread the third word, lips parting again, feeling a hot flush on his cheeks, and like he was about to pass out.

_Gordon._

She wasn't married.

* * *

Melinda stared at the man in front of her, still not quite believing her eyes, because he...he looked like Jim.

But how could she know if it was Jim?

"Dr. Clancy," he introduced, handing her the paper to fill out without their hands even brushing.

She felt she would have known right then; if he'd touched her, her body would have remembered instantly.

Was his surname Clancy? Why hadn't she ever found out?

She licked her lips, watching him as he read her sheet, a frown falling over his face before he looked up at her again.

She darted her gaze away, biting her lip and trying to look anywhere but him. Was it...could it be Jim?

She darted a glimpse at him again, as tall and strong as she'd remembered; seeming impossibly taller and stronger, even. His face had different lines on it; it had been ten years, but they just seemed to improve the structure of his face. His hair was as black as ever and his eyes were still a piercing blue.

If...if it was Jim.

"Follow me," he said, voice deep, just as it had been on the phone yesterday, and she tripped after him, eyes glued to his broad shoulders. "There's a, uh, a gown for you to put on," he said, gesturing for her to enter the room. "My office is still so small, as is my practice, that you can just open the door when you've finished…" Did she imagine it or did his eyes fall over her? "Changing."

She nodded, being careful to not brush his body as she walked past him, and he closed the door behind her.

Her cheeks were burning hot. She felt like laughing and screaming and wailing all at once. First...it was Jim. Her eyes couldn't deceive her that much.

And yet he hadn't seemed to recognize her.

She slowly unbuttoned her dress, counting off the damning evidence. The coolness of his eyes. The purposeful stride. Surely...surely he would have done something upon reading her name...reacted. Asked her. He knew her full name, even if she didn't know his.

She reached a blind hand in back, panicking for a moment, wondering if she should remove her brassiere or not.

What would this physical examination entail?

She slipped it off, hiding it underneath the dress along with her slip and pulled the gown on, tying the ties tightly in front and perching on the edge of the examination table, before realizing that she'd need to open the door.

She'd never felt so scared in her life but she jumped up and threw it open before almost diving back to the table, forcing herself to sit up straight and fold her hands daintily in her lap before he reentered.

The room seemed a lot smaller with him inside it. He was looking down at the paper. "So we'll be looking for signs of pneumonia primarily today," he announced. "Since Rockland U merely wishes to ensure that you don't have it."

"Yes," she said, throat dry.

His blue eyes pierced her, traveling over her. The stethoscope around his neck caught her gaze and she forced her gaze back up to his face.

"I'll begin by seeing what your heart rate is," Dr. Clancy said, clearing his throat again, and she watched, wide eyed, as he placed the stethoscope in his ear and walked forward.

She turned her head away from him when he pressed it to her heart, knowing that her heart beat was escalating every second because of his proximity.

She could feel his gaze, hot on the top of her head, and she glanced down, seeing his fingers touching her chest.

"It's...elevated," he breathed, voice suddenly husky.

"My walk here was quite vigorous," she blurted, and he nodded, letting the stethoscope fall away.

"Open your mouth," he said, taking out a tongue depressor. "Say ah."

She opened her mouth, as his hands carefully placed the stick inside, looking at the back of her throat, nodding and seeming to mentally check something off.

"Turn around," he requested, and she did so, jumping a little when she felt his hands on her back. "I'm going to listen to your lungs now."

He started on her upper back, slowly moving across it, fingers gentle, touch light.

She felt herself straightening her back as he went as if in response to it, feeling a throb between her legs at his touch.

She hadn't intended on having a pelvic exam but she most definitely wasn't going to now.

His hands fell lower and she started to inhale, jumping when he stopped, and even more when his hand touched her shoulder.

"You need to have a normal breathing pattern," he said, voice gentle.

"Hmm?" She asked.

"Breathe out," he advised and she, blushing, let the air out of her lungs, and he resumed listening to them, his fingers and the stethoscope a constant pressure.

"I don't hear anything abnormal," he said, hands falling away as the stethoscope reached the bottom of her rib cage. "I'd clear you for pneumonia."

"Good," she said shakily, slowly turning around on the table.

His eyes were steady. He had a doctor's touch and vision.

Oh god. Jim had wanted to be a doctor. She knew that. She could never forget that. This man...he had to be Jim. There was no way around it.

And if there was...she didn't know what it was.

And if he was...why didn't he recognize her?

"Do you have any other questions?" He asked, all business. "Do you want a more thorough examination?"

Her throat hurt. She could feel tears well, humiliatingly, in her eyes.

What had she been to him? A fool? The one girl stupid enough to drop her dress to him?

"No," she whispered. "I suppose you'll sign something for me to give them."

"Yes, I can ready that for you," he said, looking down at the papers in his hands. "I'll leave you to get dressed."

* * *

He wasn't sure how he'd survived that.

Jim sagged against the wall outside, feeling his breath come fast and furiously.

She'd been so calm, almost stiff, needing a reminder to breathe.

She'd been so soft. Even though the stiff material of the gown, he'd felt the give of her skin.

When he'd taken her heart beat…stethoscope flat against her chest, fingers straining to wander lower...

Oh, there were other ways he'd like to take her pulse.

So many other ways that he'd prefer to that.

He blindly wrote out a doctor's note saying that she didn't have pneumonia, tensing when he heard the door open.

He handed her the slip of paper, watching how downcast her eyes were.

He had to.

He had to ask her. He had envisioned meeting her again thousands of times and in not one of those scenarios had they not ended up not intertwined, even in the ones where she was married.

And the word Gordon seemed to scream out to him, reminding him that she wasn't. That there should be nothing to hold him back.

And yet everything. It wasn't like she'd remember him. No matter what Mrs. Davis had said.

She was nearing the door and he spoke, almost forcing the words out.

"Miss Gordon?" He sounded panicked and she whirled around almost immediately, eyes wide, hands clinging to her purse.

"I'm sorry," he said, walking forward. He couldn't stop himself once he'd started; her body held a magnetic like pull on him.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Did I say my full name? I don't think I did. Dr. James Clancy." He swallowed, holding his hand out. "Jim." He bit his tongue, forcing the rest of the sentence out as she stared at him, her hand slowly moving to meet his. "I think...I think we've met."

Her hand slid into his and he gasped at the touch, his hand totalling enveloping hers, covering it, holding it, never intending to let go.

"New York," he breathed. "Ten years ago. You were...you were a nightclub singer."

He could feel the pulse in her wrist spike at his words, and his own pulse spiked in return, as his hand remained over hers, holding hers, his fingers massaging her wrist.

Melinda looked up at him, eyes luminous. "And you were a bartender."


	9. Chapter 9

They'd said it. The words were out.

He remembered.

Melinda could have wept in relief, feeling her hand still caught in his, and she reluctantly pulled away, having no idea what she'd do if he continued to caress her like that.

Oh god.

The things they'd done. The state he'd seen her in. How...how had he been able to conduct the exam so calmly?

"It's been ten years," she said, voice cracking.

"It has," he said, folding his arms, hiding his hands from view.

"How has life treated you?" She wondered, and her mind thought up a new obstacle. Was he married? Some doctors didn't wear rings to examine people; it wasn't sanitary.

"Well," Jim said. "I...I went back to school. Obviously."

She smiled, true happiness at that statement. "That's wonderful," she breathed. "You spoke so passionately about it that night but you were so convinced that it was an impossible dream. That's very...inspiring, Dr. Clancy."

"You were…" He began and his voice trailed off. "That is. Yes, I did. And you?"

"Well, I went to college but I don't know if society calls any unmarried woman a success, so I don't know if that's good or not," Melinda laughed, feeling a bit like her usual self, wondering how he'd take the words.

"It is good," he said immediately, tone passionate; voice deep. "You, uh, you must have done well."

"I did," she said, the smile on her face growing. "Very well. I was head of my class."

"You knew how to work hard, uh, Miss Gordon," he said simply. "Very hard indeed."

She felt his gaze slide over her body, over the fitted house dress that she suddenly felt was too vampish to wear in front of him, in front of everyone. She could look down and see one button straining on her chest, probably just from how hard she was breathing, but what if he could see it too?

She thought she'd grown up, but she suddenly felt seventeen again, terrified and only wanting to fit in, be loved.

"I should be going," she said, feeling for the doorknob behind her. "It was lovely to see you again. Goodbye."

"Will I...see you around town?" He asked at the last moment.

She felt her spine straighten a little, wondering if she misread what she heard in his voice: hope.

"I expect you will," she breathed. "I hope so, at any rate."

He smiled, hesitant, and her own smile blossomed in return, slow and brilliant, before she slipped from the office back into the sunshine.

She felt short of breath and just a tad giddy, even with how nervous she was. Even with the fact that he could be married.

He'd looked at her, truly looked at her, as he had ten years ago.

And my god, that was better than anything.

* * *

She was radiant. Utterly beautiful. And she remembered.

Jim felt like sagging against the wall in relief, his heart pounding, his mouth dry.

It had been so good to see her again. To see how she'd grown and matured.

He walked back into his office, picking a medical textbook from the shelf. It was fat and hard in his grip; the pages were rough, he'd gotten it second hand. His hand on it slipped, remembering gripping Melinda's shoulders. Slim and giving. Soft and warm through the thin material of the gown. The push of her full breasts as he listened for her heartbeat.

No. No. he had to stop thinking like that.

He remembered her words, about being top of her class, feeling a burst of pride blossom in his heart. She had done well for herself. She had fully escaped from the snares of men like Kevin, she was unmarried, she had built a life for herself out of nothing, from the bottom she'd climbed up. And that was very admirable, and especially attractive to Jim, who'd done the same.

Because of her. Because he'd met her and realized that if there was a better way that life could go for her, there was a better way it could go for him.

He thought of why she'd needed the examination; to get the job at Rockland U, she'd had to have proof that she didn't have pneumonia.

Well, she had very healthy lungs. Very responsive.

He blinked, freezing a little as he remembered, lips parting. Too responsive, almost.

He really hoped that her job turned out well; it was as assistant to a professor, he thought. He hoped that the man hadn't accepted female candidates just so that he could have someone to chase around his desk.

Because, honestly, Melinda deserved better than that.

He moved behind his deck, sinking into the seat and putting his feet up. At times like this, he usually wished for a patient to fill his day...or several.

But right now, his mind was wandering and it was more than a good thing that he didn't have patients to see because, where his mind was at, he wouldn't really see them anyway.

* * *

Melinda walked back to Rockland U, presented the certification and was, thankfully, directed to Professor Eli James' office.

She stood outside for a moment, hoping that this would be a good job. That everything would turn out right.

And then she knocked.

"Just a minute," came a voice inside; higher than Jim's, more nasal, and then the door was torn open by a very frazzled looking man. "Hello, what can I do for you?" He asked. "Come in. Don't mind me. I just need to find something."

His office was in shambles.

Melinda repressed a chuckle, looking at the lanky and frazzled man in front of her. "I could help," she said.

His gaze shot over her; the housedress that she realized she should have changed out of. "I don't think so," he said simply.

"No, I'm your new assistant," Melinda explained hurriedly. "Melinda Gordon."

"Oh!" He exclaimed, jerking to stare at her again, raking a hand over his unkempt hair. "Um, I did not expect you so soon. My office is a mess and I am not prepared to train you."

"I don't need training," Melinda said. "I know what the job entails, and I've done it before."

"Well, missy, er, Miss Gordon," Professor James said. "You don't know how I like my coffee. Although you're right. What are you here for if not to clean my office?"

Melinda froze. "I'm here to help you teach," she stammered. "That's what the job description said. Uh, a teacher's aide. Help you in the classroom."

"Oh, no, Miss Gordon," Professor James replied. "I couldn't let a little thing like you out there. No, I just want you as my...my aide. My secretary."

"That's not what the...that's not what I applied for," Melinda said, voice just a bit panicked. "I can do much more than that. I can be much more useful to you."

"I don't need help in the classroom, Miss Gordon," he said in frustration. "I don't even teach that much, I just guest lecture a few times a month. I'm a doctor of psychiatry. I hired you to—to open my mail, make my coffee and—and clean my office."

"That is not what I was told the job entailed," Melinda hedged.

"Then go," Professor James said, brushing her off. "I can get better help but good luck finding a job in this town that pays better for such short hours, especially in this depression. Where is my file?"

He placed his hands on his head, almost shrieking the last words.

She stood there for another long moment, blinking back frustrated tears, trying to remember what exactly the letter had said...what the job she'd applied for was.

But she wasn't even sure she had the letter anymore; in the mess of moving, everything got jumbled around. She'd gotten rid of so much.

Why would she have kept that? When she already had the job? A perfect, wonderful job.

A job that wasn't perfect or wonderful.

Professor James looked around his office in a daze.

"What are you looking for?" She asked, taking off her hat.

His eyes ghosted over the tight bun high on her neck. "You don't cut your hair like the flapper girls do," he said abstractly.

"We're past the age of flappers, aren't we?" Melinda asked. "What are you looking for?"

His eyes narrowed. "A file," he said. "One of my patients, a Clyde Barry. It should have his name on the outside."

Melinda looked around as he bounced around his office, having utterly no luck.

It was then that she saw a file peeking from behind a bookcase, the letter 'y' sticking out at her.

She walked up and plucked it up, ably handing it to him. "There," she said, at that moment determining that, if it was a secretary/maid/office keeper than Eli James needed, then she would be the best one possible.

Because god knew, he was right about not being able to find another job.

"Does that mean you accept the job on these terms?" He asked, staring at the file as if it didn't exist.

"Yes," she said, speaking the words still burning her pride and her throat.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Terms as stated, you'll be paid every two weeks."

"Yes," Melinda said.

"And one other thing," he said. "I had an open position because the past three women who have held your position have left me high and dry to get married." His eyes, unusually sharp, pierced her. "If you start to let a man seriously court you, or whatever they call it now, I might fire you, Miss Gordon, before it starts to affect your work."

Taken aback, Melinda couldn't speak for a moment.

"And you might as well tell me now if you have a sweetheart," he said. "Before it's too late and I need to hire someone else."

She bit her lip. "No," she said. "No sweetheart."

"And any men coming to call?" Professor James asked.

She thought of Jim, of cool blue eyes and big hands, heavy on her shoulders. She swallowed a little.

"No, but if there was, if I promised to not let it affect my work—"

"You can't keep that promise," he said dryly. "Listen, I don't care if you do have one. I'm just saying that you might lose your job over it because I can't handle another moony girl running out on me, leaving me high and dry and looking for files that...that they would have found in a second."

He sighed, glancing at her.

"Do I start work now?" Melinda asked. "I wasn't expecting to, I'm not dressed for it and I had plans."

"Do what you need to do," he said, now a little grumpy, showing that he had, indeed, hoped for her to stay around. "I need to see my patient."

"I could...clean up a bit before I go," Melinda said. "If you need me to."

Those words burned her even more.

This wasn't supposed to be the job. She wasn't supposed to be his maid.

"Fine," he said, tossing her a key. "Lock up when you're gone. Steal anything...I will know."

He left the office then, a rather dramatic exit, and then dashed back in a moment later. "I forgot my hat," he mumbled and left again.

Melinda bit her lip, looking around her. First things first. The bookshelves. Surely she didn't think herself above this sort of work. She didn't. Of course she wouldn't. Everyone should be able to and welcome menial labor. To be able to lift things, well, some people were paralyzed with polio. And there were definitely girls her age who would jump at a job opportunity like this.

So why did it make her want to cry? Why was it that every time she looked around her, seeing what her future was as Professor James' slave she bit back a sob?

She was supposed to be able to do more. Become a teacher herself one day, despite the fact that she'd never once seen a female professor; she'd stopped having female teachers in high school.

She'd remembered something about the world, something cruel that she'd forgotten in the few moments of Jim Clancy looking into her eyes this morning.

That if something were impossible for most people, why would she be an exception?

She was a fool to think that she could make something of herself in this field. A damn fool.


	10. Chapter 10

The world was alive with the wonder of being.

Jim locked his office early and walked home whistling, feeling like the world was twice as vibrant as it had been yesterday because the impossible had happened and it was better than he could ever have anticipated or dreamed of.

He was in love. Totally and completely in love. And it was with a woman he hadn't seen in ten years but good god, that they were meeting again now, that he'd been thinking of her all this time, that the world had brought them together again...that had to mean something.

And he already knew what it meant for him. He knew that there was no way he'd ever let her slip away again, through carelessness or dismissal of what she meant to him because she meant everything to him and he knew that now.

The day was almost as hot as it had been yesterday; he pulled off his jacket, remembering the woman yesterday, feeling his face flush. Could that have been Melinda? Surely they weren't two women in town with...figures as perfect as that.

He carefully folded his jacket over his arm, feeling how sore his neck and shoulders were from bending over a book all day. He needed some rest, but he felt like going home would only make him daydream about Melinda even more.

He truly wanted to see her again.

Mrs. Davis was outside gardening when he got home, startled as he came up the walk. "Still not patients?" She asked, tutting her tongue. "You need to work harder."

"I'd never say no to that," Jim sighed, settling on the front steps and slowly unbuttoning his cuffs to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "It's hot out," he commented, using his hat to fan his face.

"Indeed," Mrs. Davis commented. "I just need to finish this weeding; it's going to rain tonight and I don't want them here for it."

"Do you want help?" He asked, ready to go in and get changed, but she was shaking her head, smiling at him.

"Gardening makes my soul sing," she sighed. "Even with this creaky old back, I love working in my garden."

"Do you want me to make dinner?" He asked and she hiked a brow at him.

"I'm the one getting paid for it, just go change," she scolded.

He chuckled, loud and long. "Fine," he said. "Don't accept any help."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wiping sweat from her wrinkled brow. "You seem unnaturally cheerful after yesterday," she said. "How pretty was your female patient?"

"You won't even believe it," Jim hedged, his smile growing ever bigger.

"Oh?" She asked, one eyebrow raising even higher. "Don't be unprofessional, Jim."

"I won't, and I wasn't," Jim enthused, knowing he could be honest with her. "I would never let myself do that. But Mrs. Davis... " He licked his lips, feeling his voice drop an octave. "It was her."

"You can't be serious," she chuckled.

"I am serious, and I don't quite believe it myself," he said, joy in his voice, something that made her pause and take note, believe him. "It was her. It was Melinda and she...she was beautiful, Mrs. Davis. Just as I remembered and yet somehow more and even better. My heart skipped a beat to see her and I just couldn't believe how good it was and she was real," he repeated.

"My lord, you're being serious," Mrs. Davis said in awe.

"Yes!" Jim exclaimed. "It's unbelievable but I saw her, I touched her and it wasn't a dream."

He remembered his dream from the night before, slowly covering his mouth, hiding the flush spreading on his cheeks, remembering just how he'd dreamed her to be last night. And their meeting today had been nothing like that...but it was better. It was better because of course Melinda would have grown up, would have been different, hesitant, wide eyed...cautious, she'd learned caution in the past ten years and Jim's heart warmed to think of that.

He licked his lips again; they felt too dry, and his mouth felt dry and his face felt hot and Mrs. Davis jokingly placed a hand on his forehead. "Are you coming down with something?" She asked, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

"No, I'm fine," Jim assured her. "Just fine. Better than ever."

"You're quite hot," Mrs. Davis cautioned.

Jim let another grin curve his lips, wider than the first. "You can't believe how good this makes me feel," he said. "Mrs. Davis...she wasn't married." He could just imagine how he looked; so excited he'd look slightly mad, waving his hands, joy in his voice as he told her everything. "She wasn't married. And I wondered...wished...hoped…" He wet his lips again, until Mrs. Davis handed him a glass of water.

"There, if you're so thirsty," she said in exasperation.

"I felt…" Jim began, pushing the words out, because voicing them, just voicing them, seemed like it would raise his already ridiculous hopes. "Like she had been waiting for me too. Like…"

His voice trailed off. "And she was smiling," he said a moment later. "Smiling at me. Asking me questions like she was interested…"

"You're head over heels already," Mrs. Davis chuckled.

"I know," he said, blushing even more, covering his face. "I'm being ridiculous."

"But maybe not that ridiculous, you said it yourself," she said, her hand still resting on his head; a very maternal touch, one that made Jim almost reach up and take her hand in his because his mother had been gone for so, so long. "Maybe she was waiting. Like I said yesterday, a woman doesn't forget a man like...like you."

There was silence. He rested there, quiet, watching as the world moved; little boys were racing past, playing games; kick the can, it looked like, and he momentarily wanted to go and play with them, go back in time to his childhood, go back to when things were easy.

But things were never easy.

Even Melinda...had held back so much today.

He had to make sure he didn't lose her again.

He could hear the sound of the piano being played; the woman next door offered lessons but her students weren't usually this good.

He could smell the neighborhood's dinners baking and stewing.

He could feel Mrs. Davis's hand, light on his head, before she pulled away and walked inside.

This was what he'd always wanted. Yet even now that Melinda was here, alive, beautiful, single, he could still feel an unrest. Dan.

He had a feeling, however, that that part of his past he'd never be done with.

* * *

Melinda spent the whole morning cleaning up his office, trying to slog through the piles and piles of papers there, finding it hard to believe that he'd had a secretary or assistant recently because the place was an utter mess.

The bookshelf was the only thing left even vaguely untouched and even then, she could tell that the books weren't in order at all. There were novels next to textbooks; a mug of unfinished tea on one shelf and a half finished sandwich on another, something she shuddered to touch as she dropped it into the trash can.

She finally got used to it, slipping her heels off, getting on her hands and knees to clear the papers, fighting back any stray emotions. She would live past it. She wouldn't have to do any of it forever.

She just had to remember that.

She got to her feet when she heard footsteps, grabbed her heels and slid the pumps back onto her feet, feeling yesterday's blister throb. She'd forgotten to ask Dr. Clancy about that. Jim. She'd forgotten to do a lot of things after speaking to him.

Professor James finally burst in, slamming the door open. "Oh," he said, stopping stock still almost comically. "You're still here."

"Yes," she said, confused, and he shrugged.

"I didn't think you'd stay," he said, reassessing her. "It looks...tidy. I'm impressed."

She just nodded, not really happy to get his approval, since that wasn't what the problem was here. "Do I pass?" She wondered aloud, not quite realizing she'd spoken aloud until it was too late.

"Pardon?" He asked.

"Do I pass your standards?" She said, edging towards the door.

"By tidy up a little, I thought you meant pick up one thing," he said, looking up at her. "You cleaned the whole damn...darn office. Sorry. My mouth runs away from me sometimes." He cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to be so brusque earlier. I just get hurried and I haven't had someone to help in weeks...I can't handle being a professor without someone keeping me on track."

And that wasn't supposed to be her job. It was most definitely not what she had applied for at all. "I'm glad you're satisfied," she said softly, ducking her head.

"I'd be happy to raise your wages if you continue doing such a good job," he said. "Your other duties would include dictation...keeping track of my schedule, fetching things as I need them, delivering notes to other professors…" He trailed off, looking up at her. "Making an occasional pot of tea?" And there was just this note of vulnerability in his voice, he was pleading for someone to help him through this crazy thing people called life, asking her to help him, lend a hand. And he was going to pay and Melinda could feel some shattered part of her heart slowly mend. She'd made false assumptions; she'd been the foolish girl that she'd thought she'd outgrown, dreaming of things that were beyond her reach.

And there was nothing wrong with cleaning or making pots of tea for lonely professors. It just wasn't what she had planned to do with her life. Ever.

"I accept those terms," Melinda said softly.

His lips crinkled into something that she would have called a smile on anyone else. "Well, you can go now, I suppose," he said, waving his hand. "Here. I can give you something for staying today, since I don't think you intended to."

"No, it's fine," she said, before realizing that maybe she did need the money. "Something would be nice," she relented, forcing her pride down.

He handed her a few bills, and she bit her lip before taking them.

"When do you want me here tomorrow?" She wondered, poised for flight by the door.

"Nine," he said. "Or earlier, but not later."

"Do I get time for lunch?" She asked, looking at her feet.

"Yes," he said. "An hour, or more if I'm going out with colleagues."

She nodded thoughtfully, her mind inexplicably shooting to the thought of going out to lunch herself one day, what she'd do with that hour…

And somehow, her mind went to Jim. Somehow, her mind went to a blue sky, clouds, a picnic lunch, laying on their backs gazing at the world around them. Suddenly he was turning to face her, eyes bluer than the sky somehow, smile wide on his face; this was the real Jim with all the new muscles and wrinkles that ten years had given him. The smile lines around his eyes were deeper, and the curve on his cheeks as he smiled didn't quite fade and it made her stomach stir to think of, and she jerked out of her reverie just as his mouth neared hers, just as he placed his hand over her face, pulled her in.

And Eli was just staring at her. "Any other questions?" He finally asked.

"No," she said, flushing, breathless. "No, I don't think so. Um. There is one. When would I get off?"

"No later than five-thirty, but usually earlier," he said, shoving hands into his pockets. "So we're agreed."

"Yes," she said, and he, flushing, pulled one hand from his pocket.

"Let's shake on it, make a deal," he said. "I just...can't lose another assistant. I'll go crazy."

"Understood," she said, and slowly stuck her hand out to meet his.

His palms were clammy and he had a limp handshake, hesitant. But somehow she approved of his mind a bit more now that he'd explained a few things.

Even if this wasn't what she wanted. Even if her heart ached as she left his office, chin held high, trying to keep herself together. It was like being promised champagne and being given water in return.

There was nothing wrong with water.

But anyone could choke on it if they'd been expecting champagne.


	11. Chapter 11

Melinda got home to find Delia in the kitchen, humming as she listened to the radio; the news was on.

"Good news?" Melinda wondered, slipping her shoes off.

"Not really, but I'm not worried yet," Delia said, snapping it off. "How was your day?"

Melinda considered the question, realizing that she hadn't asked Jim about her blister. "I'm not sure," she sighed. "I have a blister and I was going to ask the doctor about it." She felt her cheeks heat, knowing that she was showing all of her emotions from the day.

"What happened that you forgot?" Delia wondered, walking over. "Here, let me see it."

"Oh, no," Melinda began, but Delia was rinsing her hands off and taking Melinda's foot in her hands, looking at it.

"My, your feet are so small compared to mine, but I have a good eight inches on you, I'd wager," Delia said. "So what happened?"

Melinda felt a smile on her face. "Well...it sounds so wild, I hesitate to say, but...it was him."

"Him? Who was who?" Delia asked. "Oh, you popped the blister."

"Yes, unfortunately," Melinda sighed. "It hurts like the devil."

"I'll clean it," Delia said. "Don't try to stop me, I'd do this for most anyone who needed it."

"Thank you," Melinda began.

"Him who?" Delia urged, grabbing a few things from under the sink.

"The boy...the man I knew, the one I met ten years ago," Melinda whispered. "The one I knew for six weeks, the reason that I never...I never married."

To admit that out loud felt weighted. It felt like she was settling on something, declaring it all.

She had loved him all those years ago. And she'd been, consciously or not, waiting for him to find her again; there was something in her heart that had prevented her from letting herself fall for someone else, like Rick, until it had found Jim again; until it could stop crying out to see him again, settle her feelings for him.

"What?" Delia gasped. "You did what?" Her hands stilled for a moment, before moving again, carefully cleaning it and placing a bandage on it.

"I met him, he was the doctor," she whispered, her cheeks even warmer now. "He was...he was so impressive. Tall and blue eyed, like he was ten years ago." She pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying to calm herself; she hadn't been able to really think about him all afternoon as she cleaned Professor James' office, and now…She couldn't stop. She utterly couldn't stop.

"And was he married?" Delia wondered. "Has he been waiting for you all these years? Oh my goodness, has he? This is so romantic." Her brown eyes shone at Melinda, she was grinning from ear to ear. "You're going to get a second shot at true love."

"That might be an exaggeration," Melinda said, ducking her head, but she was remembering how he'd looked at her this afternoon and she so wanted to believe Delia's words. "I don't know if he was married. He could have been." She shook her head. "He probably was."

"Dr. James Clancy, the new one," Delia mused. "Yes?"

"Yes," Melinda whispered, reflecting on his last name, and how the words Melinda Clancy would sound. Oh, it made her heart beat faster.

"He's single," Delia said. "And that's why he hasn't had many patients yet; people aren't yet convinced it won't be a scandal to see him. Besides, there's the old doctors that no one wants to betray."

She had finished with Melinda's foot, and Melinda cautiously stood on it; it felt better. "Thank you," she said, and Delia was already standing up. "Dinner will be ready soon," she said, smiling. "I've got it all in hand, and I cherish this time alone, so you can run along outside or to your room."

"Alright," Melinda said, dimpling, going to her room; pulling her watch and necklace off, and then wandering outside; Katie and Ned were seated on the front steps of the porch and she was about to go back inside and leave them to their conversation when Katie looked up and saw Melinda there; she smiled and spoke.

"Melinda! Come out, please!" Katie greeted, standing up and taking Melinda's hand in her own to tug her onto the porch. "I'm so glad to finally meet a career woman," she said, eyes glowing. "I'd begun to think they didn't exist."

Melinda chuckled, feeling warm inside, sitting on the steps next to them. Ned was also smiling, a dimple showing in his cheek.

"I'm glad I meet your expectations," she said.

"You do," Katie said. "You're so trim and well dressed, just like the girls in the movies."

"Thank you," Melinda said, still grinning. "And you two are the very picture of high school sweethearts."

"Yes, but thankfully we're done with high school," Katie said. "Ned is working at the newspaper, and I'm working at the hospital." She smiled at her sweetheart, leaning into him. "We're trying to save up money, to get married. Since we can't ask either of our families."

"I'm glad you're saving up," Melinda said. "That's a good plan, save a little before you marry."

Katie nodded. "Especially because I probably won't be able to work after we do, or not as much," she said. "Most people aren't glad to hear it."

"What do you mean?" Melinda wondered.

"That I'm working at all," Katie said, a frown on her face. "My f-everyone says that Ned should be able to make enough but it's hard. Especially in this depression."

Ned was quiet, holding his sweetheart's hand.

"And I was so excited," Katie said, her voice getting more lively. "To hear about you. And I'd love some advice. I need to know what field I'd do best in, what field is most welcoming. I might still go to school; should I become a nurse or a teacher?" She was biting her lip. "I'd make more doing either of those, but it's hard to get hired as a married teacher, yet a nurse would take longer."

Melinda felt like such a huge hypocrite; she didn't have the career that Katie obviously thought she did, but she carefully considered Katie's words, thinking of friends she had.

"I would do what I wanted more," she finally settled on. "Because there will always be disappointments. You'll never quite get the job you want, nor the one you deserve. So you should do the job you know that you'll be happier doing. The one you could still be doing years from now if you have to go back to work." Her gaze landed on Ned, voice softening. "For whatever reason."

"It makes sense, what she says," Ned said, squeezing Katie's hand; eyes gentle. "You should do what you'll be happy doing."

"Well, I'd like both," Katie said. "I don't know." She sighed. "Thank you, Miss Gordon. It is good advice, I just don't know my own mind well enough for it to do much good."

"Well, if you want to be practical and get it done faster, become a teacher," Melinda said. "But if you ultimately think you won't be happy teaching, become a nurse."

"I guess thinking about it is required," Katie laughed.

"Are you staying for dinner, Katie?" Delia asked, poking her head out the front door. "You're welcome to, you know."

"No, father wants me home early," Katie replied. "But thank you, Mrs. Banks."

"Of course," Delia said. "Anytime you can stay, just say so."

"I should be walking you home then, it's getting late," Ned said, standing up and extending his hand for Katie; he was such a serious boy, so careful of her.

She wasn't fragile, though, Melinda saw quite clearly. She had a hidden, steely strength to her that Melinda herself wanted, very much.

Because if this day had proved anything, it was that she needed to grow up more.

* * *

That night, Melinda took a bath, taking her time in the tub since Ned and Delia had both already gone to bed.

She leaned back, feeling a stray tear slip down her cheek, again remembering that terrible moment in Professor James' office.

This was her life now. After years of planning, after years of being sure that she'd be the one to make it, she was stuck in the same cycle.

She wanted to go back to a better time but the funny thing was, there really hadn't been one. Her childhood had been fine and she had fond memories, especially of her grandmother, but it hadn't, overall, been a truly happy time.

And her teenage years were alright; she'd had a few close friends in school and then it had all just come to a halt with Kevin.

And then Jim.

But even those six weeks with Jim weren't happy. They were miserable and nervewracking because she wasn't with Jim, she was with Kevin, being forced into all sorts of miserable situations.

Jim had been a light, but even he hadn't fully illuminated her life.

And then after. College had been wonderful.

Most of the time.

She brought her knees into her chest, leaning her chin on her wet knees, crying more now. Some of her happiest moments were from college, with friends, in class, doing what she did best, being smart and mostly celebrated for her brain and her wit and her spirit rather than her body.

Most of the time.

There had been those professors. The ones who laughed. The ones who ignored her. The ones who graded her papers lower because they wanted their highest students to be men.

There had been male students who blatantly ogled, who would drive themselves to distraction if she wore anything but sweaters to class.

She wasn't that student. She wasn't like Leila Palmer, who wore tight sweaters and shorter dresses...but neither did she think that Leila was wrong. She just thought that the boys should be able to keep their minds on their work no matter what the women in class with them were wearing.

Because it had been established that they, too, had a right to be there.

She sighed, and the water was getting cold, and she slowly stood up, wrapping a towel around herself.

She was walking back to her bedroom when it happened, and she froze in terror, hearing voices. An argument.

She listened carefully, trying to track the conversation, padding into the living room and the kitchen door was open; she could see Ned on the porch and she stepped forward and then stopped herself, seeing them through the window.

Katie was with him. And as she watched, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her so deeply and intimately that Melinda knew exactly why they were doing this in the dead of night.

She melted back into the shadows, transfixed for a moment by how Ned's arms wrapped around her, by how he lifted her into his arms, how Katie's legs were wrapping around his waist.

And she remembered. Doing things like that with Kevin, usually in his car. She remembered the heat.

But when she heard Katie's moan, she knew that this was nothing like she'd ever experienced with Kevin if she was getting pleasure from it.

And her mind shot straight to Jim as she quickly turned around, seeing Ned's hands going to Katie's sweater, pulling it over her head as Melinda escaped back to her bedroom, pacing a little, throwing on her nightgown and getting into bed.

And her mind was spinning, changing what she'd seen, turning it into herself and Jim. Jim as he was now, arms bigger, shoulders so impossibly wide, body so protective.

She imagined being held by him, him sheltering her, cradling her so tenderly.

She imagined feeling as she had with him ten years ago. As Katie was feeling now.

A stray moan escaped from the porch; Melinda flushed a little and held her pillow over her ears, not because she disapproved, but because it wasn't meant for her ears.

But really, they should be quieter, more careful.

Even if she knew that if it was Jim on the porch...if it was her…

God knew, she'd wake the whole neighborhood.


	12. Chapter 12

Melinda had always thought that working in a university would be wonderful, surrounded by the academia and students who wanted to learn.

She was wrong.

Professor James was a complete mess, and no matter how many times she straightened and restructured his office, she'd come in the next day to find it a mess again.

Which didn't make sense to her, since he usually left before her. Did he truly come back at night and just mess it up?

The answer came to her one day when one of his patients stumbled into the office, wild and distraught, needing to speak to Dr. James.

And Melinda's heart softened, for a brief moment, to learn the lengths he went to for his patients.

"He always comes back in to help me," the girl managed to say. "Even at night."

Her eyes were wild, and she was nervously twisting her hands together. "Where is he?"

"He had a lunch meeting," Melinda explained, her fingers poised over the typewriter in front of her, trying to read through his scrawl enough to get this letter done. "With the board of directors."

"Tell him Fiona came by," the girl finally said, her skirt fluttering in the breeze that swept through the window. "Please."

"Of course," Melinda said, already noting the message on a little notepad she'd bought for this purpose.

He had a surprising amount of visitors, and the spectrum of normal to a little crazy never failed to surprise Melinda.

He was, after all, a psychiatrist.

She stood up as Fiona left, straightening her own dress and adjusting the belt a little. Delia had packed her an egg salad sandwich, wrapped neatly in wax paper, with an orange on the side.

She idly peeled the orange, watching the window. She had letters to complete, and his file cabinet was, as usual, in utter disarray.

But she wanted to enjoy the day. It had, for once, cooled a bit; the sun's rays were friendly instead of menacing and the breeze sweeping through the trees was a balm to her flustered soul.

She closed her eyes and breathed in, trying again to adjust herself to this new life, to her new reality.

Trying to realize that just because she hadn't chosen this life didn't mean it couldn't have its own blessings for her.

She hoped it would.

She prayed it would.

* * *

Jim woke up one day to realize that he'd double booked himself, something he didn't think possible.

He'd rolled over in bed, taken his daily planner off of the nightstand and opened it, only to realize that there were two patients scheduled for nine o'clock.

He lay back in bed, a little shocked, thinking back to yesterday's afternoon, answering the phone after an appointment with an injured carpenter.

Things were looking up.

It was like Melinda coming back into his life had actually changed things. The thought of her had always been a motivator, some kind of charm to keep him moving forward, and now that she was back in his life, barely (had he even seen her since that day?) it was like her visit had charmed his practice, charmed the people in town to begin to grudgingly consider him as a third option.

Or even a first option. He'd somehow won over a housewife with seven children, and she was taking her time bringing in each child with some new ailment or scraped knee, and he knew that she'd keep his appointment book busy for months.

Or even years, he considered, laughing a bit to remember Nick's latest mishap: the nine year old boy had fallen from a tree and sprained his wrist.

He imagined that these were antics that Nick would be up to for quite a while.

Jim lay back on the bed, watching the breeze ripple the curtains, sighing a bit. It was promising to be such a nice day, and he had no one to spend it with. After his morning appointments he didn't have anything until the afternoon, and his heart longed for a person to spend lunch with; today was the perfect day for a picnic.

But there was literally no person in Grandview that he knew that well yet.

Sighing again, he got out of bed, knowing that he had to shower and shave before he started his day.

He leaned over the sink, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, body lean and tall. Surely he still looked okay...was that a gray hair?

He shook the thought aside, wondering what Melinda had thought of him. Maybe she'd feared that he hadn't changed a bit, that he was still a boy masquerading as a man.

He closed his eyes, washing his face with cold water, slipping his boxers off and getting into the shower, feeling the water that never quite got hot pour from the showerhead, washing his body clean with a bar of soap, one that slid from his hands after a few minutes.

No.

No, he couldn't let himself go there, he reflected, reaching around himself to wash his back, get his shoulders, swipe down his legs.

The bar of soap again slid away, as did his mind.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the water, thinking of Melinda as she'd been ten years ago, slim and forced into clothes that didn't fit; he wondered if he'd ever even seen her smile.

The thought paused all erotic imaginings, as the reality crashed back into him that she was more than a fancy now, she was a human being, and one that he really wanted to have in his life.

Had he ever seen her smile? More than the stiff one she gave the crowd.

Had he heard her laugh?

Had she heard his?

It began to occur to him that they really hadn't known much about each other at all, but their connection had been so strong, it had kept up all these years...at least on his end.

Maybe she'd only remembered when he'd mentioned it.

God, this was going to drive him crazy. All he wanted was to see her again, and he knew where she worked, but it would be crazy to go to Dr. James' office just to see her.

And what if she didn't want to see him?

And he just didn't have a reason to be there...beyond her.

Was that reason enough? Was seeing her a good enough reason to give her?

He stepped from the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, again staring at himself in the mirror.

He wanted to see her again.

* * *

"It's a chicken sandwich with tomato and mayonnaise," Delia said, handing Melinda a square wrapped in brown wax paper, as always. "Try to eat it outside, it's almost criminal to waste this gorgeous weather."

She bustled back to the stove, stirring her oatmeal before turning back to the kitchen counter where the fixings for a sandwich for Ned were laid out; he was getting the same thing Melinda was. Melinda's heart warmed to think that Delia was literally mothering her. "By the by, Melinda," Delia began, voice chatty. "Have you seen that doctor much?"

"I haven't seen him at all," Melinda confessed.

Delia's eyebrows shot up. "But his office is so close by," she said. "How could you waste this opportunity?"

"I'm scared," Melinda said outright, and Delia's face softened.

"Oh, darling," she whispered. "If he remembered you, like you said he did, then it's worth a chance. And he wasn't wearing a ring." She pointed her oatmeal spoon at Melinda, shaking it a bit. "And that says even more, seeing as how I got a glimpse of him and a man that handsome is single for a reason."

Melinda laughed in spite of herself, taking a sip of milk as Delia dished her up a bowl of oatmeal, sprinkling brown sugar on top.

The Banks certainly weren't rich, but Delia truly knew how to stretch a dollar, and how to make the most of what she had.

She was literally the best cook that Melinda had ever encountered, and what she could do on such a sparse budget amazed Melinda.

Take the chicken sandwich; that chicken had already been Sunday dinner, Monday's lunch and Tuesday's lunch, and after today (Thursday) Delia would boil the bones and it would be warm soup for Saturday.

Melinda stood up, finishing the oatmeal. "You know, I really ought to pay you more for the food, considering that it's really not just meals you're giving me," she said. "It's one thing to cook for a boarder; you treat me like a daughter."

Delia smiled, bustling around the room. "Exactly," she said. "And I would never ask a daughter to pay, so you shan't give me another penny. Even with your fancy job at the university."

"I told you," Melinda said, scuffing her foot on the floor. "It isn't. I thought it was, and it's just secretarial."

"It's something to be proud of anyway," Delia said. "You're making your own money, and keeping yourself up in high style." She smiled at Melinda's dress, and Melinda just shook her head. "It's not about the title," she finally finished, coming to cover Melinda's hand with her own. "Or about the fact that you're not making as much as you frankly should be. It's disappointing, yes. But you're independent." She raised an eyebrow at Melinda. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," Melinda agreed. "I make enough to be independent."

"And isn't that enough?" Delia asked. "Isn't enough maybe even better than more than I need because life is better when you have what you need, and not things beyond it."

"Well, I suppose," Melinda said, knowing that she agreed with Delia. "But I was hoping for more than one dress, and I don't know, I wanted something fancy but I don't...don't make enough."

"Then save your money," Delia said practically. "And it'll mean all the more when you have enough."

Melinda found that she was laughing, relishing how nothing, absolutely nothing, could stand in the way of Delia's positivity.

She left the house in higher spirits than she'd expected, skipping down the street; she'd also gotten new shoes, at least, and these ones didn't leave blisters.

* * *

**"Jim!"**

The word startled Jim, and his heart momentarily seized, because there were so few people now who called him that, ones that he'd hoped to not see again, ones that he'd purposefully left behind.

Friends. Family.

Jim bit his lip, turning around and his breath finally came again, seeing Matt walk through the door; the carpenter he'd helped yesterday.

"Well, Dr. Clancy," Matt amended. "I just wanted to say thank you," he said, glancing around the bare office. "No patients?"

"It's a slow day," Jim chuckled, never minding the fact that today, in fact, had been one of the busiest days he'd had so far.

"You did a good job, I've had no problems," Matt said. "This is already healing much better than it did when old Dr. Hardy helped, and Dr. Bell is booked from here til Christmas, and it's useless to go him in a crisis anyway; the man can't keep a cool head."

"Well, thanks," Jim managed.

Matt smiled. "Can I call you Jim?" He asked. "I asked around and you've had this practice for almost a few months now, yet you still aren't getting a steady business." He shook his head. "It makes no sense to me."

"Word of mouth hasn't caught up yet," Jim admitted.

"Have you had slower days than this?" Matt wondered.

Jim nodded slowly and Matt whistled. "I'd have have to close by now, man," he said.

"Small towns are hard to start a practice in," Jim said. "I had a nest egg; I was prepared for some slow months."

"Well, I hope things start looking up," Matt said, and clapped his uninjured hand on Jim's shoulder. "And I intend to help with that as much as possible. You know, a little more socialization would probably help. The fair is this weekend. Go, sample every woman's pies. Not only are they good, they'll greatly appreciate it."

Jim chuckled. "Well, maybe I will," he hedged and Matt nodded.

"You really should," he said. "You're a good doctor; I wouldn't like to see you go."

Jim just nodded, and watched Matt leave.

The fair. He had seen signs around for it, hadn't he? They'd just flown past his mind, but now…

Jim decided, in an instant, that he was going, and that going might very well require a new suit; he only had work clothes, and his church suit, and he needed something in between.

Besides, there was a dance coming up too.

He needed something appropriate for the summer weather.

He was closing the office early.

He was opening the door, locking it behind him, heading out into the gorgeous summer air.

It was just past five; he usually stayed until six just in case, but just in case didn't exist today.

He was halfway down the street when he saw Melinda, coming home from work; the first time their walks had coincided.

She caught his eye, immediately, his gaze lingering again on the trim ankles over her heeled feet.

He wanted her...in his life.

This should be a turning point, he should go and speak to her.

But it was already too late.


	13. Chapter 13

Melinda rolled awake, feeling stiff and tired in the cooler morning air.

The day would be hot, she could already tell, and it was Saturday.

She yawned, sitting up in bed, stretching her arms over her head, letting her nightgown flutter in the breeze.

There was a knock on her door, and before she could react, Delia was poking her head in. "I'm sorry," she said, obviously not truly remorseful; the woman's eyes were twinkling. "But today is the fair and I need your help."

The words immediately shot through Melinda's mind, she was bolting out of bed.

Someone needed her help.

She loved being needed. Almost as much as she loved being wanted.

She tied a robe around herself, yawning again as she got the words out. "With what?"

"My pies," Delia sighed. "I left them out on the porch to cool and someone snitched them in the night." She plonked hands on her generous hips, glaring a little, the closest to angry that Melinda had ever seen her. "I bet it was that Mrs. Davis. She's always trying—and failing, mind you—to best me."

"Well, I don't know how to cook," Melinda said, a bit lost.

"You don't have to," Delia said. "Just follow my lead. It's three pies, I just need help rolling them out because I'm short on time."

"Of course," Melinda said.

"So get dressed," Delia told her. "Wear something old; you'll have time to change into something pretty, don't worry."

"Change for what?" Melinda asked.

"For the fair, silly," Delia said. "There's no way I'm letting you stay home and miss all the festivities!"

"Oh!" Melinda exclaimed, as Delia bustled out of the bedroom, feeling herself panic a little as she hurriedly shimmied into older clothes and brushed her hair back, tying it with a ribbon before dashing after Delia. "I don't want to go to the fair," she explained, as Delia bustled around the kitchen; she had a pot of fruit furiously bubbling on the stove.

"Wash your hands first, please, dear," Delia said, getting out a second rolling pin. "And of course you want to go to the fair, silly."

"Stop calling me silly," Melinda said, washing her hands clean.

"Oh, well," Delia said, patting Melinda's arm. "I'm sorry, but why don't you want to go to the fair?"

"Because it's—"

The words stilled in her mouth, as she watched what Delia was doing; rolling out a large section of pie dough into a crust shape.

Melinda tried her best to copy the moves, flattening the dough with the pin; her hands were clumsy and her movements slow compared to Delia's, but Delia was humming along to the radio, and she smiled approvingly at Melinda's handiwork.

"It's what?" Delia wondered.

Silly? Stupid? Dangerous? A waste of time? Not practical?

The only problem was, none of those things were actually true anymore. Melinda stilled to realize that she'd been actively avoiding events like this for quite a while now; any sort of gathering where people had fun, where men got...drunk.

Did she still fear them? She wondered, as Delia took the rolled pie crust Melinda had been flattening, humming in satisfaction. "Try the next one," she requested.

Did she still fear what men could do? Even as she boasted about being an independent woman, even as she'd faced down men in an academic setting (well, all of her classmates, at least, and most of her teachers...Professor James was another story entirely…) she'd still avoided any environment where men lost their inhibitions and could become...threats.

But this was a small town, not a big city. Alcohol was legalized again, and Melinda had found that that was actually a relief.

Besides, she'd be with Delia. Delia's guest. No one would bother her here. Not in Grandview.

"Maybe I do want to go to the fair," Melinda managed, and Delia beamed at her.

"I'm glad you changed your mind," she said. "We just have a few more steps, and then you can go get ready." She smiled at Melinda, her gaze sweeping over Melinda's old housedress and apron. "Wear that new dress, the pink fluttery one. And I have just the hat for you; Charlie got it for me; I never wore it."

"But—"

Delia raised a stern eyebrow and Melinda silenced, feeling a reluctant smile sneak its way onto her face.

This whole being mothered thing wasn't actually so bad.

* * *

Jim dressed in his new suit that day, feeling a little foolish, but Mrs. Davis wolf whistled when he came down the stairs, causing him to flush and know that he was overdressed.

"Don't change," she scolded. "My oh my, you make a pretty picture right now. Like you stepped right off of one of those catalogue pages."

She fondly ruffled his hair as he sat down at the breakfast table, placing a bowl in front of him. "Eat up," she instructed. "Because you're going to be busy today, bringing all of my entries to the fair."

"How many contests are you entering?" Jim asked, tasting the honey swirled oatmeal.

"I'm reentering my Alpine Rose quilt," Mrs. Davis said. "I don't know why Betty Ann Frasier won last year, but she's not going to repeat it, since she's been too busy to sew this year. Thank goodness. And I have my embroideries, and my jams, and my pies…" She trailed off, a grim look on her face. "That Delia Banks thinks that she'll take my blue ribbon home again this year. She's wrong."

A smirk appeared on his landlady's face. "It's a little hard to enter a pie contest when you have no pies to enter," she finished. "Jim, don't look at me like that; I never said I was above a little sabotage."

Jim almost choked on his oatmeal to hear such a statement from his 5'0" landlady, the woman he'd previously thought to be somewhat of a saint.

She obviously still had at least a sprinkling of the devil inside her.

* * *

Matt appeared at the last second in his old truck, pulling up and parking in front of Mrs. Davis's house. "Jim!" He called, and Jim, inside, again startled to hear that name being used for him.

"Oh, is that your friend?" Mrs. Davis asked. "Ask him if we can take his car to the fair, I don't feel like walking much."

Seeing as how at this point both Jim and Mrs. Davis were _over_loaded with her entries, he privately agreed.

"I didn't know you knew where I lived," Jim greeted, chuckling as he opened the door; Matt waited outside.

"It's Grandview, everyone knows where everyone lives," Matt corrected him. "Hello, Mrs. Davis."

"Hello, Mattie," she greeted. "I'm glad you came for us, I underestimated just how heavy all of my prizewinning entries would be."

"All?" Matt asked, chuckling before his laughter was cut off by her shoving her quilt into his arms, pies on top.

"Drop those and peril your life, Mattie," she snapped. "Now let me go and fetch my jams and we'll be ready to go."

"This is not what I volunteered for," Matt mumbled, carefully going back down the walk, Jim following.

"Why'd you stop then?" Jim wondered.

"I just wanted to pick you up," Matt said. "Spend some time with you." He mock glared behind him. "Doesn't she know that I'm injured?"

Jim chuckled, snatching the quilt from Matt. "I don't know, Mattie."

"Only my mother's friends get to call me that," Matt warned.

"Get in the back, Jim," Mrs. Davis commanded, marching out the front door. "Don't subject an old woman like me to the trundle seat."

"Just do as she asks," Matt chuckled, seeing Jim's face fall. "You can't argue with Mrs. Davis. Don't learn that the hard way."

"I've already learned it," Jim sighed. "The hardest way."

Matt's laughter rang out, loud and clear. Jim felt his heart warm to realize that this could be the continuation of a very promising friendship.

* * *

Melinda finished helping Delia set up at the fair, her pink dress fluttering in the breeze. The sun was beating down, hot and intense, but there was just enough of a wind to keep it bearable.

Almost.

She was glad for the hat Delia had so gladly lent to her, but still lifted her right hand to her face to shield her vision for a minute, certain that she'd seen Professor James.

She exhaled upon learning that it wasn't him, just someone with a similar haircut.

"Go ahead," Delia said happily. "You're done here. My oh my, sometimes I do wish we held this fair later. Most counties wait until September, when the world has started to cool, but here we are in the hottest days of July."

She rolled her eyes. "But you can't beat tradition, "she sighed, fanning her face. "Shoo, girl, Ned deserted us to find Katie ages ago." She grinned. "Go find your doctor," she teased, and any thoughts Melinda had entertained of hanging around Delia that day were banished, knowing that she'd never hear the end of it.

She wandered away from Delia, the sleeves on her dress mercifully short, and the buoyant skirt swinging in the breeze.

She could feel eyes on her, not just male eyes, not just intrusive ones.

People were curious; as people in small towns always were.

If she wanted to stay here, she should make an effort, she thought absently, fingering a lacey piece of crochet work proudly displayed at one of the booths.

She lingered for a moment, getting caught by the erotic holes in the lace, wondering how it would look attached to an evening gown.

She hurried on, getting a cone of cotton candy and taking a short lived bite, the sugar instantly dissolving in her mouth.

"Melinda!"

She turned at the sound of a female voice; Katie stood there, waving madly.

"Katie," Melinda greeted, voice warm as she walked to meet the younger woman, seeing her surrounded by people Melinda supposed to be her family.

"These are my younger siblings," Katie said. "Aaron, Mack, Lena and Emma."

"Hello," Melinda said, waving to the two boys and two girls standing there.

"Do we have to stick around with you?" One of the boys grumbled.

"Papa said that until he and mama got here you had to stay with me, Mack," Katie said, taking the youngest girl's hand. "Emma, stay close." Katie smiled at Melinda; whatever quarrels she had with her parents obviously didn't extend to her siblings. "Did you come with the Banks?"

"Yes," Melinda said. "I know that Ned was looking for you."

Katie's face lit up, then she lightly smacked Aaron on the arm. "Don't mention that to papa and I'll buy you cotton candy," she said.

"That's for kids," the teen drawled. "But give me the nickel and we're even."

Katie rolled her eyes, digging through a tiny change purse and handing him a nickel. "Don't waste it on a game you won't win at," she said.

"Well, I'll leave you be," Melinda said, noting a small amount of relief in Katie's eyes; she obviously loved her family, but definitely had a little bit of rebellion in her anyway, wanting to keep her worlds as budding career woman and dutiful daughter separate.

Melinda continued to wander through the fair, looking at the sights, drinking in the sounds.

She was in line for lemonade when she heard a voice, when someone called her name.

And she looked up to find Dr. Clancy standing next to her.

* * *

Melinda was here.

Well, Miss Gordon was.

Jim felt his entire body freeze to stone when he first saw her, tripping through the fair, pink dress fluttering around her shapely legs.

He knew that she was catching the eye of almost every man there, and he found himself saying a hurried goodbye to Matt, leaving his friend behind to be confused alone. "I'll meet you later," Jim called behind him, and quickly moved through the crowds of people, until he finally saw her again.

She was so pretty. Her skin seemed to glow in the early afternoon air, and there was an almost smile on her lips; her eyes showed definite amusement, if not happiness.

And he'd take amusement.

"Miss Gordon!" He called, as she got in line for lemonade; she jerked to attention, smile falling from her face as she madly traced the crowd of faces for the person calling her name; she visibly relaxed to see that it was him.

He wasn't sure how to take that reaction.

"Enjoying yourself?" He wondered, noting how tightly nipped the waist on her dress was, mentally placing his hands there where the bow was.

"Yes," she said. "It's very hot out."

"Don't overwork yourself," he cautioned, and quickly snatched a dime from his pocket, batting her hand away when she tried to pay the man. "Let me," he said, taking the lemonade and handing it to her, as the man gave him a second one for himself.

They walked away from the stand, and Melinda grew quiet, her cheeks now a little flushed as she sipped the tart drink.

"How have you been?" She finally asked, her voice quiet, words halting.

"Good," he said. "I've seen you around, a little. Everything is working out for you at Rockland U?"

Melinda nodded, lips pressed tightly together. "Yes," she added, after a moment of silence. "It's fine. You?"

"My business is doing...well," he said.

They fell silent again; Jim wondered if she felt the same charge in the air to be walking next to him as he did alongside her.

"I've hoped to talk to you again," he finally blurted. "Find out what you've been up to these ten years."

"Really?" She asked, eyes suddenly wider, browner, more vulnerable; she looked so beautiful it was nearly too much for him. It was like going back ten years, to the night he'd first met her.

Innocence. Eagerness. A girl, now a woman, still looking for her place in the world.

They grew quiet; he'd lost track of his words as he'd looked into her eyes and now he wasn't sure what to say.

They ended up in front of the giant ferris wheel, and Jim found himself gesturing towards it. "Take a ride with me," he offered.

"Oh, well," Melinda began.

"Are you afraid of heights?" Jim asked, meaning it to be compassionate, but knowing from her reaction that she took it as a taunt.

"No," she said, and got into line, leaving him behind to laugh and follow her, eager to walk in her footsteps.

They again waited in silence, and Jim couldn't help but notice that her breathing seemed to be elevated.

Oh god, his probably was too.

They were about to sit side by side in a limited space, and Jim wasn't a stupid man, he knew that ferris wheels were where men took their dates when they wanted to be clung to.

Yet his suggestion had been innocent enough.

He licked his lips, nervous again, as the line advanced, and the carnie was finally letting them on, ushering them into their car.

Melinda got in first, clinging to the carnie's hand for balance; Jim felt his jaw twitch that he wasn't the one helping her, but it only made sense.

The other man smirked at Jim and Jim resisted the urge to make a claim on Melinda, because he didn't have the right...he didn't have a claim to make.

Jim settled into the car beside her, and the carnie closed the door, lowering the bar over their laps.

Melinda licked her lips as the ferris wheel started again with a bit of a jerk; the car swayed alarmingly and even Jim's stomach jumped.

She gasped, a sharp inhale, moving closer to him on the seat as if without even realizing it.

Jim felt every nerve in his body jump in reply, and he clung to the bar in an almost white knuckled grip.

"The world looks different from above," Melinda said as they continued to rise; their car had been the last to load.

"It does," Jim agreed.

They were silent for a moment, but the silence was somehow no longer uncomfortable.

* * *

Melinda could feel Jim next to her, almost more than she could see him.

She avoided looking straight at him, but her gaze was falling to where his hands gripped the safety bar; she wondered if he was afraid of heights, but it was hard to imagine Jim...er...Dr. Clancy...afraid of anything.

It was cooler higher up, though the sun was nearer, and Melinda almost began to relax, until the wheel started to take them down and she felt her stomach flutter.

Against her better judgment, against everything inside her, and yet in agreement with every single message that her heart seemed to be sending her, she moved closer to Jim, grabbing onto his arm as though she didn't have a choice because it was starting to go faster and god in heaven, maybe she was afraid of heights.

They swung up again; she at least managed to resist the shriek building, and then it was suddenly over, and they were being let out.

Melinda let go of his arm, not missing the way the carney smirked at them, raising her chin high and ignoring the flutters in her stomach, the way her hands immediately missed the feel of Jim's strong arm under her fingers.

And Jim was looking at her; the crowd around them seemed to swell, and he was suddenly, startlingly, pulling her close, one hand on her waist, electrifying her and completely stealing her breath away.

The crowd dissipated; he let her go, and now it was his turn to survey the crowd, not quite looking at her.

"May I have your number?" He wondered.

"It's just Mrs. Banks, my landlady's," Melinda began, but her voice almost gave out. "It's Grandview, 57745."

He looked down at her now, gaze caught by hers, and she felt her mouth lose all moisture.

"May I call you?" He wondered.

She licked her lips, trying to get enough courage to speak. "Evenings are best," she managed, and then she saw Delia, and made her escape, almost running through the fair, feeling Jim's gaze on her the whole time.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: It's been too long… *ducks***

"He called again," Delia told her, poking her head into the small bedroom. "But you were actually out this time so I didn't have to make something up."

Melinda turned her face up from where she sat at the desk, trying to finish writing a letter to an old classmate. She wasn't really getting anywhere with it and Delia's entrance prompted her to give up completely. She'd try again another day.

"Was I?" She questioned.

"You'd gone out with Katie and Ned to see the picture," Delia replied. "And don't say it wasn't on purpose because I know you had no interest in such a show."

Melinda sighed. "You know me too well," she said.

"He's called you so many times now," Delia cried. "Not every night of the week but it's cutting close. He's not going to keep at it if you don't give him some encouragement. I do admire you keeping him on the edge but this is too much."

"I'm not trying to bait him," Melinda protested. "I honestly don't know what I'd say if I called him back."

"Say how are you," Delia instructed. "Say you've been feeling under the weather and you've been busy with your new job but you never meant to ignore him."

Melinda rubbed her forehead. "What if I did mean to ignore him?"

"Don't tell him that," Delia said immediately. "And why do you want to? Was he less than a gentleman at the fair? I thought you enjoyed yourself, hence you giving him my number to call at all hours."

"Oh, Delia, I'm sorry, I didn't even consider that," Melinda apologized instantly. "I shouldn't have given him the number."

Delia made a sound almost like a growl. "You know very well that that's not the part I'm objecting to."

Melinda ducked her head. "Oh, Delia. I'm not ready for this." The words were true. "I didn't go out with boys in college and I don't know what I'm doing and, well, I'm too afraid of moving forward with him because I know I'll do something to mess it up."

Delia smiled gently at her. "Melinda, if you care about it that much, it's definitely something you want to pursue."

"I know," Melinda fretted, biting her lip.

"Just promise me you'll call him back," Delia finally finished, after a few minutes of silence.

Melinda hesitated, as Delia moved to the door to leave her room.

"Melinda...at least put him out of his misery if you really can't do this right now," Delia cautioned softly, and left, gently closing the door behind her.

Melinda sighed. It was time for bed soon. She'd worry about this tomorrow.

* * *

Her mind, or heart, however, had different ideas.

Her dreams that night took her to uncharted territory. She was on the phone with Jim, and oh, his voice sent shivers down her spine.

"Why haven't you called me yet?" His voice rumbled.

"I've been so busy," Melinda rushed to explain.

"Liar," Jim taunted her.

She felt her mouth dry up. "No-"

"Liar," he said again. "Melinda. I'm going to come over there right now. You need to be punished."

"P-punished?" Melinda panted and the dream shot her forward because she was opening the door and Jim was standing outside.

He didn't ask for permission, he just walked inside and took her wrist in his.

She let him lead her, feeling her heart beat unbearably fast. He sat on the couch and then raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you going to take your punishment like a good girl?" He wondered.

She felt unsure. She didn't know what he was going to do. But she wanted to find out. Licking her lips, she nodded yes.

His face softened, but he was again pulling her towards him, and shockingly laying her across his lap. My god. He meant to spank her.

"Jim-" she began but his hand landed on her derrière and she gasped.

It hurt. But it felt good.

It landed again, a sharp drop, a loud slap. "Again," she moaned and she heard the moan he made, deep in his throat, to hear her say such words.

"My god, Melinda," he whispered. "Why must you torture me so?"

And then he was gathering her into his arms, those big arms of his, pulling her close and kissing her. Kissing her so tenderly and sweetly, and then she was the one to moan, shifting closer, pressing herself against his lap like she'd been taught to.

And then, just as it was getting good, Melinda woke up, in a tangle of sweaty, damp sheets and mussed hair.

Somehow this dream had been naughtier than those preceding it, and she laughed dryly to realize why.

The picture Ned and Katie had taken her to had included a spanking scene. At the time, Melinda had been very uncomfortable to watch, for although the scene was innocent enough for the kids watching, for all they'd seen was a man spanking a woman for having done something "bad", all of the adults present had gotten a completely different interpretation of the scene...and of the one following it, which showed the heroine leaving a bedroom not her own.

* * *

Jim had called her at least half a dozen times, and he'd refrained himself from calling much more than that. He wondered to himself what was keeping her from calling, on what it could possibly be. He tried to keep his mind on positive thoughts, like maybe she was so busy at work, maybe she was being kept late, maybe they'd promoted her to some fancy job, and she wasn't free in the evenings. Maybe she'd started volunteering at night. Maybe she was out dancing.

No. No. That last one wasn't good.

But maybe it was the most realistic. Maybe she was returning phone calls...just not his.

And the pain of that thought, the pain of the possibility that Melinda was seeing other men, the thought that maybe she just didn't want to talk to him, finally steeled Jim's resolve.

He wouldn't call her again. Not until he heard from her. And depending on what she said, well, maybe not even then.

* * *

It was rare that Jim went home on his lunch hour, but he'd forgotten to bring the sandwich that Mrs. Davis had faithfully packed for him. And right now, as he locked his office, he realized something else.

He could go out for lunch. Show his face, see if people warmed more to him once he started supporting the local businesses.

He headed for Charlotte's, a small restaurant in the middle of town. Everyone seemed to go there, if they weren't at the drugstore or diner.

The town seemed to be unusually busy; maybe he'd just never noticed the increased foot traffic at lunch before.

The depression had hit Grandview, to be sure, but not as badly as the towns around it. Grandview was a railroad town, so there was a guaranteed income from the engineers, travelers and conductors that got in on the noon train, which didn't depart again til one.

Probably on purpose, Jim reflected, watching the people around him with interest. Women, men, children, all on their own individual ways, their own paths.

And Melinda.

She seemed to light up the whole crowd. Jim's world seemed to slow down, as he paused to watch her walk. She was again wearing that pink dress from the fair and it blew seductively in the breeze once again, whipping about her legs. One hand was planted firmly on her hat; it was a rather breezy day, and there was a determined look on her face; her other hand firmly clutched her pocketbook and a small brown paper bag.

It looked like she'd been running errands, of some sort.

* * *

Melinda was very frustrated but tried to not show it as she rushed through the crowd. It was certainly not her idea of a nice lunch hour to spend it getting bicarbonate of soda for Professor James, but he had an upset stomach and had demanded it before disappearing into an hours consult with a patient.

She was walking too swiftly; she could feel the jolt as her breasts bounced up and down, she wasn't dressed for this errand. She'd worn a nicer dress today because the Dean had been coming in to see Professor James about...something, and then he had called to reschedule for later that afternoon and by the time she got back, her dress was likely to have perspiration marks and she had to figure out something for that.

She knew that she still had some time before he was done with his patient, so she was half considering ducking back to Delia's and grabbing a new dress. Might as well, if Professor James was going to make her use her lunch hour on errands for him.

It wasn't fair, or proper, so she considered going home for a personal errand perfectly right, if only to balance the scales.

She was halfway there, the bag from the drug store clutched firmly in her hand, right in the middle of town square, when she saw him.

She felt her heart stop, skip a beat, and start to thump frenetically. Oh god. Dr. Clancy.

* * *

He couldn't stop himself. His footsteps were taking him to her; his body was urging him on, overriding his mind, his heart was yanking him forward.

"Miss Gordon!"

"Dr. Clancy," she greeted, her eyes darting around her, looking for an escape.

Why did she not want to be around him?

Then again, he remembered her past. She was probably just naturally nervous. After all, the last time he'd seen her...had been under peculiar circumstances.

Oh god. Probably the wrong thing to think about right now, Melinda wrapped in his shirt, clutching the material closer, looking so beautiful in the moonlight.

And the words sprung out. "I remember leaving you," he whispered. "That night. You looked so pretty in the moonlight. I remember how hard it was to keep walking."

"Dr. Clancy," she began, her cheeks coloring.

"I went back, you know," he said. "To make sure you were gone, you were safe. And it killed me that I'd never see you again."

"Well, you did," Melinda said. "Funny how that happens."

"Life's funny," he agreed. "Miss Gordon."

"Well, if that's all," she stammered, trying to duck around him on the sidewalk, but he moved, almost unconsciously, into her path to block her.

"It's not," he said gently. "Miss Gordon. I believe at our last conversation, you told me evenings were the best time to call you. Did I hear you wrong?"

"No," she said, looking so desperate now. He wanted to stop pushing, wanted to let her be, but he couldn't let her be. He'd found her. And he knew that there was more to this situation. She did want to call him. She did want this. She couldn't have acted as she had at the fair if she didn't. Why had she given him her number then?

"Then why don't you ever come to phone?" He asked.

"I've been so busy," she said. "You've just missed me. Mrs. Banks gives me the messages when I get home and there's nothing I can do."

"You could call me back, I've left my number every time," he teased. "Miss Gordon, just...you can tell me."

The words pained him but he had to be a gentleman. "I won't be angry if you don't want me to call you again," he said. "Just tell me, give me the word, and I won't bother you anymore."

She looked so torn, her cheeks a vibrant red, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. "Dr. Clancy, I'm just..."

She licked her lips, and slowly her gaze rose to meet his. His heart skipped a beat to be so closely scrutinized by her, but he squared his shoulders, trying to measure up.

"Don't stop calling me," she said, words in a rush. "I'll come to the phone next time. I just...didn't know what to say, but I promise, I'll find something."

"Is that all it was?" He questioned. "We could talk about anything. Share our days, talk about the dogs we saw on our way to work, we could talk about the radio show broadcast last night, Melinda...the possibilities are endless."

Her head snapped up when he used her proper name, her lips parting.

"My apologies," Jim stammered. "Miss Gordon."

"It's fine," she breathed. "Dr. Clancy. Um. I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'll...I'll talk to you later."

She moved around him and this time he let her pass. He touched his hand to his hat brim, in a gesture of respect. "Til tonight," he said, his eyes sharp as they looked at her.

"Yes," she agreed, a small smile beginning. "Tonight."


	15. Chapter 15

"Call Dr. Minardi's office," Professor James called from the next room.

Melinda jumped, surprised since he'd been silent for over an hour now.

"I hope that chit he hired hasn't run away to get married," he snapped, now charging into the room. "Because I need this taken care of quickly and he's always got his nose in a book. Mollie was the only person who got things done around there."

"Yes, sir," Melinda told him, wondering if he privately thought the same thing about Melinda; that she was the only thing keeping his office together.

"Tell Mollie that I need to meet with Dr. Minardi as soon as he can," Professor James requested. "Maybe lunch tomorrow. I've heard some rumors that our department's funding is getting cut to enlarge the football stadium and I'm not putting up for that."

The football stadium was already large for a campus that didn't boast a huge number of students. But, sports paid for things.

Melinda wrote down his note. "I'll try to set something up, sir," she said. "You have a two o'clock appointment in the afternoon with Fiona Raine, so it can't run too long."

Professor James hesitated at the mention of Fiona. "Oh. Well."

He was obviously torn. Melinda wondered if the young woman meant more to Professor James than most of his patients did.

"See if she'll reschedule."

His tone was brusque, brushing the matter off entirely.

Melinda wondered if he'd always chosen work over personal relationships, since he didn't seem to have any family, and god knew no friends had ever called.

She wondered if having a career was worth it, if you ended up losing everything else.

Dr. Clancy still seems to have friends, a little voice whispered.

She slammed Professor James' appointment book shut and tried not to think about it.

* * *

"It's the phone," Delia said, poking her head into Melinda's bedroom. "For you." She quirked an eyebrow. "I think you know who it is."

Melinda covered her head with a pillow for a brief moment, wanting to hide away from the world, but she sighed and got up, padding along into the hallway and picking up the heavy receiver lying there.

"Hello?"

"I always somehow doubt that you'll actually accept my call."

"Well, I didn't exactly set a good precedent," Melinda hedged, her face warming at the sound of his voice.

"Melinda, what are you wearing?" His voice was a lazy drawl.

She bit her lip, looking down at herself, dressed in a light summer nightgown, but not the silk one. "I'm getting ready for bed," she admitted.

"What does your nightgown look like?" He asked.

"It's, um, it's…" Her breath was coming faster. "It's lacy."

"Is it now?"

"See through at the bodice."

He almost purred.

She could barely keep going.

"It ends above the knee."

"Above that gorgeous knee? Melinda, what would you say if I came over, right now, and showed you what I think about that?"

* * *

"Let me tell you what I think about that!" Professor James shouted, slamming the office door.

Melinda woke up from a midafternoon nap, jerking to attention. He'd gone out for a moment, and she'd dozed off; it was such a warm afternoon, and there was the hint of a breeze coming through the window, and she hadn't been able to resist.

Her heart was beating so hard it hurt.

"Miss Gordon!"

"Yes, sir," she stammered, wondering if he could tell that she'd been asleep.

"I need some aspirin," he said, tossing her a couple bills. "As soon as you can."

"Yes, sir," she replied, tucking the bills into her purse, and taking her hat. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

"As I'd expect," he replied.

She didn't respond, hurrying from the office.

* * *

It hadn't been the best week, and the best part of Jim's day had been calling Miss Gordon nightly.

She'd started to pick up the phone, and it was wonderful how that changed things. She had such a lovely voice

He leaned back in his office chair, twirling a pencil in his hands. He was so bored. He'd had only one appointment today, and no one had come in since 11.

He finally made a decision, coming to his feet. He was closing the office. He'd leave a sign that they could find him at Mrs. Davis' in case of an emergency.

He was going home.

He smiled, realizing he was already thinking of Grandview as home, even that little room he had in Mrs. Davis' house.

It was home. She made it home, with her puttering around and always asking him if he'd been fed enough; always concerned and generous to a fault.

She was a wonderful woman.

Jim was very grateful for her.

He locked up the office, pasting the sign on the door, and slipping his hat on.

He thought he'd go into town, stop by the drugstore, see if they had some chocolates or some such. Mrs. David did so much and he wanted to treat her.

Maybe some flowers too, if he passed a stand.

He did pass a stand, and selected a bouquet of wildflowers, almost getting the roses but he didn't want to give the town the wrong impression. Besides, Mrs. Davis seemed more the type to appreciate daisies and daffodils.

He stepped into the drugstore, nodding at Jed behind the counter, and slipping to the chocolate section.

The bell above the door chimed, and he heard a feminine voice questioning Jed. "I just need the large pack of aspirin," she said, and Jim started, recognizing in an instant who the voice belonged to.

Melinda. It had been a few days since he'd seen her; more than a few, to be honest. He hadn't even seen her walking to and from work lately, and he wondered if her schedule had changed, or maybe she'd just been leaving earlier. The walk to Rockland University was fairly long, and in the sun it was no treat. She could very well just be avoiding the heat.

He stepped out of the aisle, a small box of candy and the flowers in his hand, not even thinking about it, how it appeared.

"Miss Gordon," he greeted, and she turned around, starting.

"Dr. Clancy," she greeted, a faint flush coloring her cheeks.

"What brings you into town?"

"I have a headache," she said simply, but the words didn't ring true.

He wasn't sure why. "It's been my pleasure getting to talk to you on the phone this week," he complimented, as Jed came back up with the aspirin. Melinda handed him some coins, and took the brown paper bag.

"Wait a moment, I'll walk back with you," Jim said, and placed the candy box on the register. Jed rung it up and Jim completely missed the widening of Melinda's eyes, and how her lips flattened into something that definitely wasn't a smile at the sight.

If he'd been paying attention, he might have surmised that she was feeling a tad jealous, which she was.

He held the door open for her, and they walked out together, back into the sunshine. "How's work?" He questioned.

She paused for a moment. "It's going well," she finally replied.

"What are you doing exactly?"

Another pause. "I'm still training," she finally said. "They've had a hard time of it, because we've been busy."

The words were halting, slow, and Jim wondered at why. Maybe she just wasn't comfortable talking about it with him.

"I've been thinking," he finally said. "There's a new movie at the cinema starting on Friday. Would you like to go see it?"

"Oh, no, I can't go out this weekend," she replied.

He took that in stride. "Does that count Friday? You get off work around five, yes?"

"I have to stay late on Friday, we're doing a seminar," she said.

He wondered if he should just stop here. She didn't seem interested and he didn't want to be pushy, by any means.

"Besides, don't you have plans already?" She questioned, words sudden and biting.

"What?" He asked, looking down at her.

She was flushed. Flushed and suddenly miserable. "Forget I said anything," she fumbled.

"What did you hear?" He wondered.

"I just...Men don't buy flowers unless they have a reason to," she said.

Silence for a moment. Jim processed, slower than usual, her words and the feelings behind them. Dear god. The woman was jealous.

Melinda Gordon, the woman he'd been pursuing mostly unsuccessfully, was jealous of the woman Jim had bought the flowers for.

God, he'd never wished to kiss her more. To sweep her into his arms, gather her close, kiss her worries and fears away, make her melt into him. "I got them for my landlady," he replied. "The candy too. She works hard to make her house a home for me, and I do dearly appreciate it."

"Oh."

She was flushed, her face was glued to the ground in front of her, and Jim finally had had enough. He stopped short, and she did too, and he was mildly gratified that she'd stopped for him.

"Miss Gordon," he began. "I'm not sure what you think is going on between us."

"There's nothing going on between us," she hurried to say.

"That's where you're wrong," he said. "I'm going to speak plainly, out of respect for us both. I'm not aiming to waste your time, Miss Gordon. Nor am I aiming to waste mine. I am perfectly fine being just friends with you, but that's not where our relationship is currently heading. I am courting you, Miss Gordon. And I don't expect you to agree to anything right now, and I'm not saying this to pressure you into something you aren't ready for, but I want to make my intentions clear. If I ever buy flowers again, they're for you. You can stop me now, and that's fine. I will respect your decision, and we can still see each other in town and be friendly."

She finally looked up at him, her eyes blazing. "Dr. Clancy," she began. "It's not that-I don't-"

She couldn't finish the sentence, and he nodded. "It's alright, Miss Gordon," he replied smoothly. "I'll see you around." He tipped his hat, readying himself to walk away from the most tempting woman he'd ever known, waiting for her to stop him.

She didn't.

* * *

Melinda walked back into the office, handing Professor James the aspirin without saying a word and walking back to her desk in a daze. Dr. Clancy was courting her. He'd made his intentions clear, and she couldn't breathe right now. The whole walk back had been torture, and she didn't know what to think. He wanted her.

She'd known that, to an extent, but part of her had been able to shove it down, deny it. And then there it was, plain on his face, clear in his words.

He didn't want to pursue her if it was making her uncomfortable. That only made him a better man.

And it was making her apprehensive, but she didn't want to lose this. Yes, she was scared, but she wanted him. She'd wanted him back in her life from the day after he'd left it. She'd always wanted him back.

She breathed out, knowing what she had to do. Professor James was yelling on the phone so she took a chance, picking up her phone and asking for Dr. Clancy's office. The operator connected them, and Melinda listened to the ring, once, twice. He didn't pick up.

That meant he was at home. She steeled herself, hanging up and then taking a breath before talking to the operator again, asking for Mrs. Davis' extension. She expected his landlady, but it was a male voice that answered the phone.

"Dr. Clancy," he answered, his voice smooth and deep.

Her breath caught.

"It's Miss Gordon," she replied.

She could feel how tense it got, even through the telephone. "Miss Gordon," he replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Pleasure. How could a simple word affect her so much?

"I just wanted to let you know," she said. "I'm available Saturday night, if you wanted to...do something together."

Complete silence. Melinda could barely breathe.

"I'd love to," he finally replied.

"I can't talk now, I'm still at work," she said. "But I'll be home by 7:30. Could you call me then?"

"Nothing, and I mean that, could give me greater pleasure," he said. "I'll talk to you then."

She hung up the phone, breathing hard, checking to make sure that Professor James hadn't noticed her conversation. He was still yelling into his own phone, so she knew she was safe.

She couldn't wait for tonight.


	16. Chapter 16

Katie and Ned were dancing on the porch when Melinda got home, weary and sick of work with Professor James. He'd kept her nearly fifteen minutes late, and now Dr. Clancy would think she'd refused the phone again. She could still call him, let him know that it wasn't intentional, but she hated that he'd been made to feel like that again.

Rejection wasn't a good feeling.

"This isn't the charleston," Melinda commented, watching the pair dance. "Why are you dancing like farmers?"

"There's a barn dance on Saturday," Katie gushed, as the two square danced around the porch, a picture of history. "Fundraising for the new church steeple."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," Melinda said, watching as they did a turn.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard about it," Ned said. "The whole town has been talking about it."

Considering that Professor James was pretty much the opposite of the whole town, Melinda wasn't surprised. She'd been getting home too late recently to talk to Katie and Ned and, it seems, she'd missed a lot.

"You should come," Katie said. "It's going to be fun."

"Maybe," Melinda said, knowing it would never happen. "I'll see you two later."

They nodded, continuing to dance in the twilight.

Melinda trudged inside, seeing Delia in her chair by the radio, hemming a dress. "That's my dress," she said, surprised.

"I know," Delia replied. "Styles have changed, and dresses are an inch shorter. I took it upon myself to update this one for you."

Melinda blushed. "Thank you," she said, leaning to kiss the older woman's cheek. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd have hurt Dr. Clancy's feelings very much this evening," Delia said. "Luckily, I was here to smooth things over. I said you were still at work, and I'd make sure you called him as soon as you walked in the door."

"Thank you," Melinda said, squeezing tighter. "And you kept dinner warm for me, you're a true godsend."

"I know," Delia said smugly, and Melinda sighed, taking a bite of the mashed potatoes, a little crispy on top from sitting in the oven for so long. "So. Are you finally giving him a real chance?"

"I think I am," Melinda said. "Not that I ever meant to string him along, I was just...scared."

"I know," Delia said, patting her hand. "Now eat quickly and go call him! He won't wait forever."

Melinda finished quickly, hurrying through the meal and rushing to the phone, her hands shaking as she picked up the receiver and asked the operator for Mrs. Davis' residence.

"Dr. Clancy," a low voice answered, and Melinda breathed out.

"Dr. Clancy, I am so sorry about earlier," she apologized, all in a rush. "I had to stay late at work and I tried to get out of it, but I couldn't even get to the phone to notify you, and by the time I was done, I didn't want to waste any more of my time at the office."

"It's fine," he said. "Mrs. Banks already relayed the message."

"So," she said, suddenly at a loss for words now that her apology was done with.

"So," he replied. "I believe you had a reason for this call, Miss Gordon."

"You aren't going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"It's going to be as easy as you'll let it be," he answered. "I think you were talking about Saturday night."

"Yes," she said. "I'm available."

Oh, this was awkward, but she had to find something. It shouldn't be awkward. She knew they both wanted to see each other.

She breathed out. "I was just talking to Mrs. Banks' son, Ned," she said. "He and his beau, Katie, are going to barn dance on Saturday night."

"I've heard about that," he replied. "It's a fundraiser for the new church steeple."

"It is," she said. "I was thinking that might be a nice event to attend together."

"Are you asking me to go to a dance with you, Miss Gordon?"

"I think I am," she replied, and she could almost see his smile. Oh my, she liked his smile. "Does that sound like something you'd enjoy?"

"I think I'd enjoy most things, if you were at my side," he said. "What time does the dance start?"

She covered the receiver, calling to Delia. "What time does the barn dance begin?" She asked.

"Seven," Delia called back. "There's a dinner before that begins at 5:30, but most folks won't get there til closer to seven."

"The dance starts at seven," Melinda told him, uncovering the receiver. "But there's a dinner beforehand."

"What time should I pick you up?" He wondered.

She liked that he was giving her the choice of attending the dinner or not.

"Pick me up at a quarter to seven," she said. "We'll have plenty of time to make it to the dance."

"That sounds like the makings of a wonderful plan," he said. "I will see you then."

"Dr. Clancy," she began. "I'm looking forward to it."

"As am I, Miss Gordon," he said. "Good night."

"Good night," she breathed, carefully hanging up the phone, staring at it in wonder.

She had plans with a gentleman for Saturday night! Surely Professor James didn't attend barn dances and wouldn't discover them.

That, however, was a worry for Saturday.

* * *

The whole week was restless for Melinda. She was excited for the dance, but it was the kind of excitement that gave you stomach aches, left you nervous, and kept you biting at your nails.

She sighed, looking at the clock on Friday night. How could this week have gone by so slowly. There was still a whole day before Dr. Clancy would be picking her up, and she couldn't take the anticipation anymore.

Her dreams had been frenzied and almost too much for her to handle. Visions of his hands on her body had haunted her every hour, and the thought of his touch made her feel faint. They'd be dancing Saturday, and his hands would be touching hers, touching her shoulders, her upper back, her waist. Dare she hope they might wander a little?

No, she didn't want them to. That moment ten years ago had been a result of their getting carried away, and it had been the pure heat of the moment. She didn't want him to be a cad, even if part of her also just wondered what being bedded by him would be like.

She settled back in her chair, watching the clock tick the seconds, wondering when Professor James' last appointment would be done and she could leave.

Her mind wandered…

* * *

He was nearing her, and the band was playing folksy music. They stepped in time to the rhythm and danced until the song was over. "Let me get you some punch," he said, his hand touching her upper back gently, guiding her off of the crowded dance floor.

"Wait," she said, touching at his wrist. "Follow me."

There was a hidden alcove that she guided him towards, and they were finally alone. "Kiss me," she told him, bold and unafraid.

His lips settled on hers, and his hands came to her waist. Their lips touched, and his tongue teased her mouth open, and she was pressing against him, aching for his touch again, her body primed and ready for the experience to repeat itself.

* * *

Melinda came back to herself in a haze, feeling the dream world melt away. Professor James' patient was finally leaving, and Melinda soon left too, rushing home.

She couldn't wait for tomorrow night.

* * *

Delia had helped her restyle one of her house dresses for the dance, and Katie clapped her hands when Melinda walked downstairs. Katie had come over early to go to the dance with Ned, and the girl had eaten supper with them. "I like it," Katie said. "Mrs. Banks, you did a wonderful job."

"Well, the dress helped by already being nice," Delia said. "But it did turn out well."

Melinda smoothed her hands over the skirt, glancing at the clock and Delia nodded, seeing how close it was to 6:45. She wanted to help Melinda and she'd vowed to get the kids out of there before Dr. Clancy arrived.

"You two should go ahead and go down the church," Delia scolded. "You don't want to have Katie's father asking questions."

The girl's face darkened, and Ned sighed.

"You think I didn't know that Mr. Gregory doesn't approve of my son?" Delia asked, hands landing on her hips. "And he's a fool too, but I don't like to speak ill of my neighbors."

Katie spoke. "Mrs. Banks, I think Ned is a fine boy, with a wonderful mother."

"The first part I can attest to," Delia replied. "I don't know about the rest, but you two need to get on."

"But we wanted to meet the mysterious doctor," Katie blurted, and Ned shushed her, embarrassed.

"It's fine, at this point it's no secret," Melinda said. "I suppose you've overheard my conversations with your mother, Ned." 

"And he calls nearly every night for you," Ned said. "It wasn't always mother who answered."

Melinda laughed, until the sound turned into a sigh.

"Go on," Delia said, and the two left unsatisfied.

Melinda breathed in, taking in the evening. "Delia, am I crazy?" She asked, sitting on the edge of a chair.

"By far," Delia agreed. "But you're also lucky. The man who you're crazy about is crazy about you. Take this opportunity and run with it, Melinda."

The clock seemed to be unmoving, but it finally neared a quarter of the hour, and there was a knock at the door.

"Should I get it?" Melinda said, suddenly in a cold sweat, having no earthly idea what to do.

"I'll get it," Delia scolded, opening the door to Dr. Clancy on the other side. "My oh my. What have we here?"

* * *

Mrs. Banks was plump, but very tall, nearly as tall as he himself. "Mrs. Banks," he greeted. "I am Dr. James Clancy."

"It's good to meet you," Mrs. Banks replied. "Come in, Melinda is waiting."

He ducked his head to clear her door, noting the neatness of the room, seeing Melinda sitting on the very edge of a sitting chair. "Miss Gordon," he breathed, almost not believing that this moment was real and not created by his mind.

"Dr. Clancy," she said, springing to her feet.

"Are you ready?" He wondered, his eyes stuck on her, and her dress. It wasn't something he'd seen before; it was orange, and tailored to the new styles he'd been seeing on girls lately, with a skirt that was just a bit shorter.

She looked beautiful. It wasn't a cocktail dress; it was fit for the barn dance they'd be attending.

"I am," she replied.

"You two enjoy yourselves," Mrs. Banks told them, as Jim reached for Miss Gordon's arm, taking it and tucking her hand in his arm.

They left the house side by side, Mrs. Banks waving them off.

The evening was sultry, and Miss Gordon was silent. He, too, found himself at a loss for words.

"It's a nice night," he finally said. "Though I wouldn't mind a breeze."

"It's good it isn't raining," she said. "That would have put a damper on the evening. Although, we haven't had rain almost all summer."

"It hasn't been good for the farmer," he agreed. "And they needed a good crop after the years we've had."

Silence. 

"You look nice," he finally said, a few minutes later.

"Thank you," she replied. "Delia-Mrs. Banks helped me to redo an old dress."

"It looks very nice," he said.

Nice. What a simple word that didn't even begin to describe how good she looked.

As they neared town, they could hear the music from the barn dance wafting through the air.

They'd already begun, though it wasn't yet seven.

Jim was privately grateful; now they could just jump into whatever song was playing when they got there and skip more awkward moments of silence.

He'd always expected that they'd never run out of things to talk about, and they hadn't; they were just having trouble getting started, but that would get easier with time.

They finally walked inside the town hall, right off the square. The big, barn style doors, were thrown wide open, shedding light into the square, and sending music spilling into the night.

There was already a crowd on the dance floor, and Jim turned to his companion, extending a hand. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed. She was excited.

"Will you dance with me?" He asked, and she nodded an eager yes.

* * *

The barn dances were many, but each was easy to learn. Ned and Katie drifted over, introducing themselves, and helping Melinda and Dr. Clancy learn the steps of each new dance.

Dr. Clancy was friendly with the younger couple, despite their obvious age difference, and the four got along easily, clapping with the folksy tunes and dancing nearly every dance.

It was the opposite of dancing in the nightclub for Kevin, Melinda reflected, as the night went on. This was the whole town gathered, with children and people from church. This was entirely appropriate, and a whole new experience. It was wholesome, a word that usually made Melinda feel unwelcomed in most circles, seeing as how she was a career girl, who was definitely not considered wholesome.

Katie and Melinda found themselves at the edge of a dance floor, while their partners went to get some lemonade.

"I like him," Katie told Melinda, and the younger girl's eyes were glittering.

"I like him too," Melinda admitted.

"Where did you meet him?" Katie asked.

"He's an old acquaintance that I never thought I'd see again," Melinda admitted. "And we bumped into each other in town and I...we hit it off."

She was leaving out several important details, but she didn't want to scandalize the younger woman, though knowing what she got up to with Ned, she wondered how much she even could.

She liked Katie. She knew the girl's ambitions to become a nurse and she only wanted to assist the younger couple in making both of their dreams come true. She didn't want to see them turn out like her and Dr. Clancy, who'd lost ten whole years.

Although…

Watching him come back through the crowd to her, with a broad smile on her face, Melinda knew that they'd make up for lost time.

* * *

The last dance of the evening was slow, the song crooned by a man who strummed a guitar.

Melinda found that she was tired enough to let her head droop onto Dr. Clanchy's shoulder, and he was holding her close. The night was darker now, and even the lights inside the barn seemed to have dimmed. Most of the children and families had gone home; it was only couples on the dance floor.

One of his hands was on her shoulder, the other drifting dangerously close to her waist.

Melinda looked up at him as the song came to a close, and her breath caught. His eyes were so blue, and his lips were so close. Her heart tugged at her, begging her to kiss him.

"It was a good night," she said, finally pulling back from him. "I can't remember ever having so much fun."

"It was a good time," Dr. Clancy agreed.

She went to grab her things, Dr. Clancy keeping close to her side. "Where did Katie and Ned go?" She wondered, glancing around the room.

"I think they left a good half hour ago," Dr. Clancy admitted. "They're a good couple of kids."

"They are," Melinda said. "They...they almost remind me of us."

He smiled down at her. "I can see that, if we'd met in different circumstances."

They'd walked outside, and her hand was once again tucked into his arm.

It was more than a few blocks home, and Melinda admitted to being tired. She wished one of the automobiles passing them was his, or that they had a horse and wagon even, like some of the farmers who'd come into town for the event.

They walked in silence, breathing in the cool night air. "Miss Gordon," he began to speak, and she interrupted him.

"Melinda," she whispered. "I think you can call me Melinda in private."

"Melinda," he replied, as if his voice caught on the word. "I hope we can do this again soon."

"So do I," she admitted. She saw that Delia's house was suddenly just a block away, and groaned inside her head. She only wanted more time with him.

She wondered...she wondered if he'd kiss her good night.

She wondered if it would be alright if he did. This was, technically speaking, the first time they'd gone out together. It would be a little loose, wouldn't it?

Though really, it's not like it could get back to Professor James. How could it hurt her?

They were getting closer, crossing the street, walking up the walk, opening the gate, walking up the steps. They were on the porch and at the door, and Melinda paused, turning so her back was to the door and looked up at him in an open invitation.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her cheek. "Good night, Melinda," he whispered, his voice promising more.

She waited til he had stood again, straightened. "Dr. Clancy," she began.

He raised an eyebrow. "Jim."

"Jim," she breathed.

It had only been one night together, one all too short evening. Yet she felt like everything had changed.

She looked up at him, and she wondered if he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to be kissed.

"I'll see you later," she said. "Call me tomorrow."

"You know I will," he answered, and she slowly opened the door. "I'm not leaving til you're safe inside," he told her, and she finally walked in, hesitating to close the door behind her. "Good night," he repeated, and she smiled at him.

"Good night."


	17. Chapter 17

It had been a full two weeks since the barn dance. Melinda had talked to Jim on the telephone every night, and they had gone to get dinner the first Wednesday; they had had a picnic lunch the first Saturday, and he'd come to Delia's house Sunday night for a simple dinner. They'd sat on the porch swing nearly a full three hours, just talking.

There was no doubt about it. They were smitten with each other, and the whole town could see. There was talk of how the new doctor had been vamped by Delia Banks' career girl. Tongues wagged, and the mothers in town were fretting, regretting not setting their own daughters on Dr. Clancy. They'd planned to wait until winter-to see if he was going to stay, if he could make a success of himself and his practice in Grandview.

Now it was too late, and they refused to accept that the blame rested on their own shoulders, not not Melinda's.

They, the women who'd refused to take their families to Dr. Clancy until he'd proven himself, now resented that he was doing fine without them.

And then there was the Gregory girl. The whole town was fixated on the Banks' household. Katherine Gregory was still seeing Ned Banks, even though her father didn't approve. And Delia Banks wasn't lifting a finger to stop them. She was downright shameless. That was all there was to it.

* * *

Delia knew that tongues were wagging, but if there was one thing she found distasteful, it was gossip. She'd always been one to keep to herself, and the women's sudden coldness didn't bother her at all. She was proud of her boy and knew he was an equal match to Katie Gregory, even if Ned wasn't rich like Mr. Gregory. Delia had also grown protective of Melinda Gordon, the so-called career woman (she'd also heard tramp) living under her roof. She had no patience for those who criticized her, and she readily encouraged Melinda in her relationship with Dr. Clancy. The two made a fine match, and if life had brought them back together, ten whole years later, it meant that they must be destined for each other.

* * *

Melinda knew that Professor James would be unhappy, but she left his office early one Monday. He wasn't even there, having gone to a meeting that would run late. He wasn't going to come back to the office that night. Still, if he found out that she'd left his office unattended, she'd have hell to pay.

She was meeting Dr. Clancy for another picnic, and she was very excited. She had just enough time to get home and get ready. She was locking the office door behind her when she heard footsteps, and she tensed. What if Professor James had come back early? She steeled herself. It was too late to pretend she wasn't leaving so she'd just have to deal with the consequences. She turned around, squaring her shoulders, and her mouth fell open.

It was Jim who stood there, a bunch of flowers in his hands. "I thought I'd surprise you," he said simply. Melinda felt her heart beat quicker, and she stepped forward.

"I appreciate the surprise, but you shouldn't have come by my work. I could get in trouble." She walked past him, not letting him greet her with a kiss on the cheek. "Besides, how did you find me?" Did he know she wasn't the career girl she'd pretended to be, and that she was a mere secretary? She was very unhappy that he'd chosen to come here, though her heart wanted to be glad. It was far too risky. What if Professor James heard about the man who'd brought her flowers? She'd be out the door in an instant, with a bad reference and no prospects.

She was walking swiftly, and if Jim wasn't so much taller than her, he might have fallen behind. As it was, he had no trouble keeping up. "Melinda, I didn't realize," he said. "I just wanted to surprise you."

He didn't realize that the rules were different. Melinda was in academia, and female students were already looked down on and as a waste of time since everyone knew women would only get married and all the money spent on their educated would have been thrown away. All of the male professors shared Professor James' view of women in the workplace. If a girl had a beau come by, they would never hear the end of it, and could even lose their job.

Melinda had never walked across campus so fast, ignoring everything and everyone around them. They finally reached the edge, and Melinda found that she could breathe easier now, once they were past its walls, and as soon as they turned a corner into the small oak grove that grew by the red brick walls. They were almost alone, almost had privacy, but the bicycle leaning against one of the trees made her nervous.

She frowned to think if its owner came back, but she paused anyway, turning to face him. "Now can I give you the flowers?" He asked, voice low.

"Yes," she said, taking the bouquet from him, inhaling deeply. He'd gathered a lovely bunch, and she could tell they were hand picked, and not from the drugstore like those he'd purchased for his landlady. "Did you raid someone's garden?" She teased, a smile finally coming to her face.

"I'd never do such a thing," he replied, leaning on one of the trees, his arm rippling. He'd taken off his jacket and stood there in shirt sleeves, almost too handsome to be real. "I got them fair and square, and that's all you need to know."

She wondered what he could possibly be leaving out of this story, but it was a lovely afternoon and they were beautiful flowers. She found out that she didn't really care.

"So," he said, after a moment of silence passed. "I have a picnic ready."

"I don't see a basket," she said, glancing around them.

"We just have to get there," he said.

"Where?" She asked, wondering why he was being so evasive.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice lowering.

She inhaled, looking up at him.

He was walking to the bicycle, and she now noticed it was a tandem bicycle-it had two seats. "I took the liberty of borrowing this from a patient," he said. "We can walk to our picnic, or, if you're feeling adventurous, we can take this."

Melinda felt as though this was some sort of test. She wondered if a lady would get on a cycle with a man-and then she wondered why it mattered. She was a career girl and a spinster to boot. What did this matter? She didn't have a good reputation to protect. So why not?

She moved towards him, reaching for the bicycle handles. He held it steady as she got onto the second seat, and then climbed on in front of her. "Are you ready?" He asked, and she nodded before realizing that he couldn't see her.

"Yes," she said, breathing in, readying herself. Then they were off. Jim was pedaling, and Melinda found she barely had to help. She decided to relax and just enjoy the ride. The view of his shoulders was intoxicating, as was the way the wind whipped at her skirts. She could enjoy this ride forever. Ahead of them the road dipped, and Melinda couldn't help shrieking as they sped down the hill, butterflies flapping wildly in her stomach. She clung to her handlebars, hands gripping too tight.

This should be fun, she thought, and forced herself to relax, knowing that she was safe with Jim.

Safe.

She felt safe with him.

She hadn't really felt safe in ten years, not since that night with Jim when he'd walked her home. Her stomach jumped, but not because of the road ahead of them.

They'd sped through town, and were now at the Big Hill on the end of Halstrom Street, which was almost out in the country. "I left the basket here," Jim called behind him, finally slowing.

Soon, he was jumping off the bike, and turned to face her. He held out his hand, and she took it as she got off, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Did you have fun?" He asked.

"I did," she admitted. "A lot of fun."

He smiled down at her, and the dimples in his cheeks made her heart flutter. He was such a handsome man, and the way he looked at her made her feel strange everywhere.

She was in too deep.

She stepped back, and so did he, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him. They walked over the green grass, his hand hovering by her back but not quite touching her. Just keeping her near, there so she'd feel safe.

She wanted to give in to the feelings swirling inside her, the need to feel his lips on hers, the need to have his body against hers.

* * *

Jim was beginning to worry that he didn't remember where he'd left the picnic basket, but they passed one more tree and he saw it ahead. Thank goodness.

"What did you make?" She wondered, turning to face him. "Or did you enlist Mrs. Davis' help?"

"I made the sandwiches myself," he told her. "Mrs. Davis helped with the rest."

She smiled. "Well, I know it will be good, either way," she said.

They neared the blanket and Melinda carefully sat down on one edge, leaving the whole rest of the blanket for him.

He sat on the other corner, not wanting to crowd her, and unpacked the basket. Sandwiches, cold salad, pie, and even a jar of lemonade. "We'll have to share the lemonade," he realized. "I forgot to bring cups."

"I think we'll be fine without cups," Melinda said, leaning back in the sunlight, her shirt pulling taut against her chest.

Oh god. He'd better not look there.

He steeled himself, concentrating on the food. He wanted this to last with Melinda. He didn't want to scare her off, or make her feel less than.

He wanted her to know just how precious she was to him. So precious, and beautiful…

She was licking at her lips after taking a bite of sandwich, and it took everything within him to not lean over and kiss her.

He remembered what kissing her was like. He remembered every moment of that night, every tortuous second, every gasped breath. He remembered the taste of her nipples, and the feel of his fingers deep inside her, making her lose herself entirely.

He wanted to make her feel like that again. He took a bite of salad, but his eyes were so steady on Melinda that she looked up, startled.

And the moment was impossible. Her lips were parting and he knew, deep within himself, that he leaned over and kissed her right now, she wouldn't pull away. She wouldn't say no. She'd let him. She'd kiss him back. And they would fall to the blanket tangled in each other's arms. He'd kiss her lips, he'd kiss down her neck, his hands would find the buttons on the front of her dress and undo each small pearl. He'd pull the dress down over her shoulders, and she would grow impatient and pull it off the rest of the way. And he'd see her, really see her, in the sheer undergarments he knew were the current fads. He'd be able to touch her, cup her breasts, see how they compared to the Melinda of ten years ago.

He had a feeling they'd only be better.

He would kiss down her neck, he'd pull her undergarments out of the way, and he'd taste her, like he had ten years ago.

Jim realized, far too late, just what he'd been thinking about, and jerked back to the real moment. Melinda was staring down at her lap, her face bright red, and he had a feeling she knew what he'd been thinking about.

He felt awful. "Melinda," he began, but she looked up at him, eyes blazing.

"I think it's time to be getting back," she said simply. "Because otherwise I don't really trust my actions."


	18. Chapter 18

It had been a long day, and Jim was tired. He'd had many patients due to an outbreak of measles, and he was wearied from all of the crying children and impatient mothers.

It was time to get home, and he couldn't wait to lock the door behind him and leave work behind.

It had been a beautiful month courting Melinda, taking things very slowly. He still hadn't kissed her, though god knew he'd like to. He wanted to make sure he gave her the respect she was due, however, and he was forcing himself to not return to the man he'd been ten years ago.

Ten whole years ago. Jim the bartender, who resented his mobster brother but couldn't get away. Until Melinda.

He'd left the city so soon after, going to medical school for a fresh start. It had been hard work getting a school that would accept him, and it had been even harder working two jobs at a time to keep up with payments, and managing to stay on track in school besides. He hadn't had the best grades, but he'd finished, and here he was, with his own practice.

He thought about Dan, his mind wandering, and he wondered if his brother was still the toughest guy on the East side.

He wouldn't be surprised. Dan had never wanted anything but power. The power to make sure that he'd never go hungry again, like in their childhood. Their father had been a good man, but sometimes, letting your patients pay with their generosity meant not much food on the table that night.

Dan and Jim had learned vastly different lessons from their father. Dan had learned to be anything but generous, and Jim had learned that giving takes you far in life.

The two brothers couldn't be more different, and Jim wondered that Dan had never looked for him. If he'd really tried, Jim knew that Dan could find him within months, and he quietly thanked his brother for never looking.

Thank god Dan had let him leave quietly.

Jim locked the door behind him, thoughts troubled, but shaking them off as he walked up the hill to Mrs. Banks' house.

He was having dinner there that night.

* * *

Ned and Katie were fighting, Melinda registered, almost as soon as she stepped inside the door. Delia was at the stove, finishing up frying some sausage, and Melinda could almost feel tension in the air.

"Good evening," she said to Delia, who smiled wearily.

"Not much of one," she admitted.

"What's happened?" Melinda asked, pulling one shoe off. The walk to school kept getting longer, it felt.

"Katie's father banned Ned from seeing her," Delia sighed. "I went down and talked to Mr. Gregory but he wouldn't give me the time of day. Just said that he had plans for his daughter that didn't involve her getting married to some poor boy."

"He said that to you?" Melinda gasped.

Delia banged pans against each other as she moved a pan of eggs to the front of the stove. "I'm not exactly popular in this town," she said. "Charlie was never a rich man, and it's considered an embarrassment to take boarders, but I wanted to feed my son."

"Delia," Melinda said quietly, but Delia was pulling her into an embrace.

"I don't regret it one bit," she said. "I don't care what anyone says. I'm going to feed and take care of my family any way I see fit and I know that my son would be able to take better care of Katie than her father could any day."

"Where are they?" Melinda wondered.

"She's out back, and Ned is in his room," Delia fretted. "She won't leave, but Ned doesn't want to get her in trouble so he's trying to outlast her."

"Won't she get into trouble with her father?"

"He had to leave town for a symposium," Delia rolled her eyes. "But he'll be back and they'll have hell to pay if Katie hasn't broken things off with Ned yet."

Melinda walked through the house, slipping out into the back yard, seeing Katie perched on the board swing hanging from the sole tree.

"Delia told me what's happened," Melinda said, sinking onto the grass near Katie. "I think you're a very brave girl, Katie."

Katie smiled, but it didn't stick. "Thank you," she said softly. "Ned just wants me to go home. He doesn't want my father to refuse to pay for my schooling, and he thinks he's doing what's best for me."

"Ned just wants to protect you," Melinda said. "I think he's being very brave too."

"I know," Katie whispered, a tear welling in her eye. "Oh, Melinda. I don't want him to be brave. I want to run away with him. My father's plans for me, even going to nursing school isn't worth losing Ned. I know I said I wanted to be a career girl, but it doesn't seem as important when it's compared to Ned."

"I know how you feel," Melinda began. "Don't tell Dr. Clancy this, but I'd be fired from the university if they knew I had a beau."

"It's a cruel world for women," Katie said, getting off the swing to sit on the ground, pulling her knees to her chest.

"I agree," Melinda said. "But we've made some progress. We can vote now. There are still many fights to be won, but I am so grateful for my job, and that I can support myself. I never had a father to depend on, and my mother sacrificed everything to put me through school so I'll strive to make her proud until I die."

Katie wiped her eyes, looking out at the world. "What am I going to do?" She asked.

"I don't know," Melinda told her. "Maybe for right now, school is more important. Maybe you need that to fall back on, and Ned can wait."

"She's right, you know." A male voice interrupted them, and they both turned to see Ned standing there. "Katie, you need to go to school. I can wait. But you can't give up becoming a nurse for me."

Katie cried out, jumping to her feet and running to Ned, who pulled her into his arms. Katie wept against Ned's shoulder, and he held her close.

Melinda knew that she was no longer a part of this, and quietly stood up, walking back inside.

She wondered what decision they'd come to, and her heart ached for the pair.

It really wasn't the best night for Jim to come over, she realized, but he was already at the door; she could hear his footsteps on the front porch and she hurried to get the door before Delia was disturbed.

He stood outside, hand poised to knock, when Melinda swung the door open. She felt her heart positively melt when she saw his smile, and she knew how Katie felt. Was anything worth losing this feeling? She didn't know if she could give up the way Jim looked at her, the smile on his face, the feeling in his eyes.

"Hello," he greeted, stepping inside. He was standing so close, and Melinda just wanted to walk to his arms as Katie had with Ned. Walk to him, and bury her face in his shoulder, and let him take her cares and worries away.

"Hello," she replied, and then Katie and Ned came in from the back, interrupting them.

"Katie, Ned," Jim greeted.

"Dr. Clancy," Katie said, eyes still wet with tears.

"Are you two alright?" He wondered, brow creasing.

"We might be now," Katie said, clinging harder to Ned's arm. He covered her hand with his, and she looked up at him, love shining so clearly in her ears that Melinda felt uncomfortable.

* * *

It had been another long day, Melinda reflected, as Professor James went in for his last appointment. He'd, oddly, said that she didn't have to wait for them to finish...but that might have been because it was with Miss Fiona. Melinda didn't question it, gathering her things and getting ready to go.

She slipped through the door, leaving it unlocked, and walked through the empty hallways, lost in her own world.

"You walked right past me."

She jerked around, and gasped to see Jim standing there, an eyebrow raised. "Jim!" She exclaimed, and wondered if she'd been loud enough for Professor James to hear. She could be in so much trouble, and her heart was beating so loudly it was alarming. "I told you not to come here," she hissed.

"I thought you just didn't want me by your office," he said. "So I waited in the hall."

"You can't come to campus," Melinda said, voice shaking as she lowered it to a whisper. "Jim, you don't know what I'm risking with you here."

He frowned at her. "Melinda, I'm sorry but I just wanted to surprise you," he said.

"I told you before not to come," she said, and started walking as she had last time.

The campus was nearly empty, and Melinda could breathe easier. There was less of a chance of anyone seeing them now.

"I won't come again," Jim said, when they finally reached the edge of campus. "I promise. I didn't...I wasn't thinking about you, I was being selfish."

They'd ended up in the same grove of trees as last time, and Melinda sat on a fallen log. "I am glad to see you," she finally said, and Jim settled next to her. She could feel the heat of his body, and her own body ached at being so near to him. "Did you have another picnic planned?"

"I didn't think it through," Jim admitted. "I just got off early and called Mrs. Banks and she said you were still on campus. And I just took off, without considering anything else."

There was a part of that story that deeply endeared him to her. He'd wanted to see her so badly he'd not even thought about it, he'd just come to see her.

She stared at him, turning on the log til they were facing.

His neck bent, and suddenly their foreheads were touching, and his lips were mere inches away.

"Melinda, just say the word and I'll pull away," he said, voice gravelly.

"What word?" She wondered, barely able to speak.

"Just tell me no," he begged, his breath hitting her lips and making her warm inside.

"Yes," she said instead, and shifted closer to him.

Their lips touched, and it was just like last time. Jim's hands came to her waist, and suddenly he was pulling her onto his lap.

Melinda threw her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer to him, and his mouth opened, drawing her lips inside with his tongue.

This was too good. This was too much.

They should really stop.

Melinda pulled away, almost too late, just seconds before she'd completely lost herself in him.

"We should...we need to stop," she gasped, and Jim was pulling away, going so far as to stand up.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I got carried away."

"Don't apologize," she said. "Don't tell me you're sorry for making me feel like that."

He was staring down at her, and then she was standing up, almost running to him, throwing her arms around him, and letting him lift her up. Her skirts were just loose enough that she could throw her legs around his waist, and he held her up easily, his big hands spreading over her waist and keeping her firmly there.

This was better than all of her dreams. This was real.

Melinda finally came back to earth, as Jim lowered her to the ground.

"We need to get back to town," he said softly, and she nodded, unable to look at him. "Are you angry with me?"

"I could never be angry with you," she whispered, and dared to place her hand in his. They were acting like Katie and Ned, like they were two reckless teenagers in love.

In some ways, they were. Melinda looked up at Jim, the only man she'd ever loved, and her heart ached.


	19. Chapter 19

Summer was drawing to a close. It was late August, nearing September, and the start of the school year. Melinda could feel the change at Professor James' office. Everything was getting busier, and he was even more impatient than usual.

In good news, it had been over a month since the barn dance, and he still hadn't said anything to her about her having a beau, so maybe he didn't know anything.

And there was a play in town tonight that Jim had two tickets for, and Melinda had a new dress. Delia had gone shopping with her over the weekend, and Melinda had spent a ridiculous amount of money on an evening dress. She looked like the girls in the movies. It was long and tight, and it was black. It was thoroughly inappropriate for anything but a decadent night out, and she felt self conscious about it, but she didn't care.

It was a beautiful dress, and she was going to have one night out. One last night to celebrate before school started.

Delia had helped her with her hair; Melinda's long curls didn't suit most of the styles of the day, which were all shorter bobs, but they'd pinned it up into a very high bun, keeping her neck bare. Delia had even lent her a necklace.

"My one piece of jewelry that Charlie left me besides my wedding ring," she added, watching as Melinda carefully strung it around her neck. "I thank god that I never had to sell them to put food on the table."

"Thank you," Melinda said, looking at herself in the glass. She could practically be one of those movie stars, who smoked long cigarettes and had high, feminine voices.

There was a knock on the door and Delia went to get it, returning with Jim.

Melinda turned around slowly, walking down the stairs in full view of him. She'd never made an entrance like this before; she'd never gone to parties in college or dressed up for a man, not since Kevin and that awful flapper dress.

Jim's jaw had dropped open, and she could see how moved he was.

She let a smile come to her face, as she extended a hand to him. "Are you ready?" She asked, noticing that Delia had discreetly gone upstairs to give them some privacy.

Jim caught her hand in his, and raised it to his lips, even though that was no longer the norm. He pressed a kiss to her hand, and then she moved closer, letting him kiss her lips.

They hadn't gone nearly as far as they had that one evening in the woods; they'd been very careful to not let themselves get carried away like that again. But here, in Delia's living room, with Melinda wearing such a dress, it was already too hard to keep from kissing Jim until they dissolved into each other.

Melinda didn't want to stop but she pulled away.

This evening was going to be one of the longest of her life.

* * *

Melinda looked so beautiful right now, and Jim couldn't help but think of when he'd first seen her, dressed in a flapper costume and singing a song about love.

This was a vast improvement, but it was only more intoxicating that they were the same person.

Jim was head over heels for her, and he wanted to let her know. He wanted to ask her to marry him, but he didn't know if it was too soon. It had barely been six weeks.

It was too soon. He didn't want to rush her, he didn't want her to feel like she didn't get a choice, a chance at a different life.

She'd been so hesitant to let him into her life at first, and he wasn't completely sure why, but he knew that she had big plans for her life. He didn't want to ruin them, so for now, he was alright staying quiet.

As long as he got to do this, sit next to her at a play, and see her in this dress.

Dear god, what a dress. She looked as good as, if not better, Adrienne Ames or Theda Bara, the vamps on the big screen.

And he was the man lucky enough to be seated next to her. The play was just about to start, and Melinda was looking around her. They'd had to travel for this play, since Grandview was too small a town for fine arts. The crowd around them definitely wasn't the poor farmers that inhabited Grandview. All of the ladies were just dressed just as fancy as she was, and Jim's hands were itching to touch her.

Really itching to touch her.

It was the intermission, and Melinda asked him to escort her to the lobby to powder her nose. His hand touched her back as they wound their way through the crowded room, and Jim got shoved closer. He could smell her perfume, and he was jostled again, walking straight into her.

God, her curves were amazing. She was pressed against him, and his hand came to her waist instinctively, his arms curling to prevent her from being thrown around.

"It's so crowded," Melinda gasped, and Jim almost couldn't take the sound. Melinda, gasping. His mind shot straight to the moments they'd shared, and he hardened, almost groaning because he knew she'd be able to feel it.

He pulled back instantly, and they finally made it to the lobby. Melinda's face was almost bright red, and she mumbled something as she hurried to the powder room.

Jim tried to not think about her, running his mind over how the play had gone so far. It was fairly entertaining, and he didn't regret the tickets.

He looked up to find a tall, pale man looking across the room at him. He had unruly black hair and he looked like a mad scientist.

* * *

Melinda finished refreshing herself, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked beautiful, and it was a startling image. The other ladies surrounding her didn't look that much better, so the dress had been worth it.

She resisted the urge to pose like one of girls on the posters in the lobby, slipping out back into the lobby. She saw Jim, standing with his hands behind his back, waiting patiently.

And then she saw Professor James.

He was almost directly across the lobby, checking his watch impatiently as he always did. She wondered who he was here with, and then she was jostled from the back. "Sorry," the woman apologized, walking past her.

It was Fiona Raine. The patient who Professor James saw the most often; a young socialite with severe anxieties and a bottomless pocketbook via her parents.

She wondered, as she always did when Fiona came in, if he had feelings for his patient, or if he merely cherished the endless money.

That was before her mind registered what this meant. Fiona had been in the powder room with her. Dear god, had Fiona recognized her?

It didn't seem so, but maybe Fiona was just pretending because a secretary was so beneath her and she didn't want to seem like she was acquainted with someone so lowly.

Melinda could see Jim looking around for her, so she ducked behind a plant. She couldn't let Professor James, or Fiona, see her with a man. She'd be out of a job in an instant.

She knew that Jim's feelings would be hurt if she left, but she had to admit she was tempted. She could just leave. Catch a taxi home.

The intermission was ending and the crowd was drifting from the lobby. Melinda slipped out from behind the plant, and saw Jim waiting for her, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm sorry," she began. "The crowd was a bit much."

"I was beginning to think you'd left me," he admitted.

"I wouldn't do that," she said, and he quirked his head. "Well, maybe I would have."

"Do you want to stay for the end?" He asked. "We can go home if it's too much."

She wondered if she was being reckless, and she knew she was being reckless, for that matter, but she couldn't stop herself. She wanted to see the end. Professor James was sure to be in a private box with Fiona, and nowhere near where she and Jim had seats.

She placed her hand in Jim's, and then looked around them. The lobby was empty. She rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "I want to see the rest of the play," she told him, and her eyes were sparkling when she met his gaze again.

She hadn't been this reckless since Kevin.

* * *

Jim was going crazy. Melinda's kiss on his cheek had refreshed her perfume in his nose, and he wanted to smell it again. It was vanilla and cinnamon; spicy. And intoxicating. The moment when she'd kissed him was playing on repeat in his mind, and he wanted to feel her again.

She was smiling at him, then the smile faded when she looked over his shoulder. "What?" He whispered, as the players on stage burst out laughing.

"Nothing," she said, and took her hand in his.

She was being so daring; this was a side of her he'd never seen before. So bold.

He inhaled, trying to keep his breath steady.

Her hand moved to her lap, and his hand followed. And then his hand spread over her thigh. She gasped, and he started to move his hand away, knowing he'd gone too far.

Her hand landed over his, however, holding it in place.

And he felt every curve. Her thigh was warm, and the dress was so silky. His hand slid easily over her, going down to her knee and cupping it, before sliding back up, back to the heat between her thighs.

His hand wanted to be beneath her dress so badly. He knew her skin would be even softer than the evening dress, and his mind was racing places he knew were dangerous.

He wanted her so badly.

_In his mind, they walked to the lobby, slowly and sure. No one paid attention. Once they'd reached the doors, she pulled at his hand, leading him to a quiet alcove. And then she kissed him, and he folded his body over her, tasting her lips._

_Her dress was gorgeous, but it was in the way. He tugged it down, revealing perfect breasts. She was fumbling at his slacks, and freeing him, and he was pulling her dress up._

_And he was inside her. She was kissing him frantically, and he'd never felt like this before. He'd dreamed of being inside of her for ten long years, and here they were._

_He was going to take her home and make love to her all night long._

Jim jerked back to the present, his hand still on Melinda's leg. He was sweating, wasn't he?

He felt like a heel, but it seemed Melinda hadn't even noticed his lapse of judgment. He let his hand slip over her thigh again, lightly cupping it.

* * *

The evening felt like an eternity, and so did the cab ride home. Melinda wondered how much money he'd spent on this evening, and if his budding practice could afford it. She didn't want to doubt him, though. He wasn't irresponsible. He wouldn't have done this if he couldn't afford it.

The cab let them out by Delia's door, and Jim walked her to the porch as the car silently pulled away. She wondered if he'd get his own car.

In the beginning, she had rather liked kissing Kevin in his car.

A car would be a good thing.

She shook the thought from her mind, knowing that she was being reprehensible. She needed to behave. But here was Jim, warm and tall, and within arms reach.

She reached up, winding her arms around his neck, and he backed her against the door. Their lips met, and it was sweet, and flaming, and she only wanted it to last forever.

She pulled away, and he looked down at her, his eyes warm.

"Til next time," she whispered.

"I can't wait," he breathed.


	20. Chapter 20

"Spend your lunch hour with me," Jim said, wondering if there was any chance Melinda would say yes. She was so touchy about him going by campus, and she took her job very seriously.

He heard the silence, and he waited for her response. The receiver seemed to grow heavier in his hand.

"Um," she said, and he could hear her moving around. "I'm trying to decide if I can afford to."

"It's the last Friday before school starts again," he said. "Isn't this your last day of almost freedom?"

"It is going to be a lot busier on Monday," she admitted. "You're right. Yes. I will."

He wanted to cheer, but restrained himself. "Should I come by campus?" He asked.

"Yes," she said. "But stay by the trees. Bring that bicycle."

"It wasn't my bicycle," he laughed.

"Oh," she said. "I forgot."

"You know," he said, leaning on the wall by the telephone. "I think I can borrow it again."

"Try," she said, and he could hear her smile over the phone. "I'll be outside and waiting by 12:35."

"I'll see you then," he agreed.

* * *

Melinda knew it was a bad idea, but Professor James had a long lunch meeting, and she was feeling daring. It had been a long week since they'd gone to the play, and she hadn't seen Jim since then because Professor James had kept her late every day this week. They'd talked on the phone almost every day, but that had almost made it worse. She'd only wanted to see him more, and her dreams had been out of control.

She'd woken up in a sweat every single night, wondering when she'd get to feel his hands on her body next.

And here she was, leaving Professor James' office at 12:30 exactly. Yes, she was given a lunch hour but he had told her to spend it in the office if she could. And by if, he'd meant if she didn't, she was going to get yelled at.

She was wearing one of her lighter dresses, and the wind made it whip around her legs. It was a beautiful day, one of the final days of summer, where the sun beams warm and the wind keeps it from getting too hot.

She was excited. She hoped he'd picked up something good for lunch, and she wondered if he'd be waiting by the trees when she got there, or if she'd have to wait.

But yes, he was there, standing with a picnic basket and the bicycle.

She felt a shock go through her, like she'd been electrified. Her heart thumped, and she knew what she was feeling was stronger than just lust.

She must love him.

She was in this far too deep, but the smile pulling at her lips showed that she didn't care. She walked forward and gave in to another impulse: leaning up to kiss his lips.

It was meant to be a quick peck, but he dropped the picnic basket and his hands closed around her waist, holding her close and tight. His lips were warm against hers, and she wound her arms around his neck.

This moment was perfect. Completely perfect. The sun beat down on their heads, and she could feel the breeze at her legs.

He slowly pulled away, blinking at her almost sleepily. "That was a nice hello," he said.

"It was," she replied. "Want to say hello again?"

A grin only made his face more handsome. "I'd like that a lot," he said.

* * *

Their bike ride led them through town, and Melinda again shrieked when they hit the hill. They were going to the same place as before, and her stomach tickled in anticipation.

They finally reached the spot, and Jim had even brought a blanket this time, which he spread over the ground. She sat down, and he unpacked the basket. Sandwiches, more lemonade, and strawberries for dessert.

They sat in the sunshine, eating, and she realized that Jim was gradually shifting closer. Or, maybe she was moving closer to him.

Either way…

She leaned back, propping herself on her elbows, looking up at the sky. He was very close. "I think you should kiss me right now," she told him, her eyes meeting his.

And he was there, body moving over hers, hands going under her shoulders to prop her up. "My god, Melinda," he whispered, and then he kissed her.

She was wrong. That moment earlier hadn't been perfect. This was perfect.

She clung to him, her hands tiny on his broad shoulders. One leg instinctively came up to wrap around his waist, and she could feel her skirt riding up, and sunshine suddenly hitting her upper legs.

And Jim's hand moved there, gliding up her ankle to her knee, and finally meeting her thigh.

She gasped, and he paused, but she moved her hand to land on his, keeping it in place. She didn't want him to stop. Not at all.

His other hand had come up to her neck, burying itself in her hair, and the feel of her neck being supported by him was undeniably addictive. She wanted him to just wrap himself around her. And she wanted his hand on her thigh to keep moving onward…

He lowered her back to the blanket, and his now free hand came around to the collar on her dress. Her breath caught, and she met his gaze. He was asking for permission, and she gladly gave it, boldly taking the top button and twisting it free of the fabric.

He took over from there, swiftly unbuttoning until it was free to her waist. And then he carefully pulled the fabric apart, baring her to him.

This was so much like it had happened ten years ago, and yet nothing at all like it. They'd been children then, and now it was so much different, they were so much older.

The feelings hadn't changed though. She felt a fire building, deep in her stomach, and she whimpered, waiting for him to touch her. She knew how it would feel. Her mind, body and heart had remembered all these years; had been waiting in tense anticipation for him to touch her again.

His lips were on her neck, and her hands were on his shoulders, keeping him down. He was kissing downwards, sucking at nearly every spot exposed, until he was at the edge of her brassiere.

She could feel how warm his mouth was, and she jerked her hips upward, impatient, needy. He groaned against her mouth when she made contact with his body, and she wondered what would happen if she did it again.

He suddenly flipped them, rolling onto his back so that she was on top, straddled across him, and she could feel the bulge only growing between his legs, so she moved, sitting up, tossing her hair. She was on top, and she positioned herself so that she could feel every inch of him.

He was staring up at her, his eyes full of lust and something else. Longing, awe, surprise. His hands came to cradle her face, and her heart melted at how he was looking at her.

He loved her, didn't he? Somehow, someway, he still loved her, and she loved him.

"We have to stop," he whispered, and the moment ended. "I can't just take you in the middle of a field."

She nodded mutely, clambering off of him, trying to not cry, turning her back to him.

"Melinda, I'm sorry," he said, but he didn't realize why she was reacting the way she was. She hadn't wanted him to stop. She'd wanted it to be like it had, she'd wanted to regain that lost part of herself. And he'd been responsible, and she knew why, but somehow, even though it was a gesture of respect, it stung like hell that he hadn't wanted her enough to, as he put it, _take her in the middle of a field._

What about what she wanted? Why was this his decision?

She didn't say anything as she buttoned her shirt, and she could hear Jim packing up the picnic behind her. He finished, and came to stand behind her. His hands wound around her waist, and he pulled her close, burying his face in her neck. "Melinda," he began, voice close to her ear. "You have no idea how much I want you right now."

He kissed her neck, and she only wanted to twist in his arms and kiss him again, but she knew he was right. They had to stop.

Anyone could stumble upon them out here. Besides, it had to be nearing 1:30, if not far past it. They had to get back to campus, or she'd be in trouble.

* * *

Jim biked slower than he had on the way there. He wasn't going towards something now; he was pulling away from it. He was leaving behind the moments of Melinda on the picnic blanket, ready and willing for him to do anything he wished with her. More than that, she'd been an active participant.

Dear god, she'd been so responsive. She'd wanted him, as much as he'd wanted her.

He saw the time on the church tower and bit back a curse. It was nearly 2:00. She was late, and it was his fault.

The I-don't-care attitude from earlier had dissolved, leaving behind vague regret and a guilty feeling that he'd be getting her into trouble, all because this morning, he hadn't cared about responsibility or being cautious.

Yet, he didn't regret their moments spent on the blanket. He could live in those moments, happily just repeating them, basking in the sunshine and heat forever.

He had a feeling that Melinda was angry at him right now, and he wasn't sure why. He'd stopped, he'd kept them from making a mistake.

Maybe...maybe she wouldn't have viewed it as a mistake. After all, it was the torrid moments they'd shared previously that had kept them close. Surely those moments hadn't been a mistake.

He wondered what she wanted. He wondered if he'd taken away her choice in the matter, and if he should have asked what she thought. He should have, he realized. That moment when he'd pulled away, he should have asked her what she wanted to do. Did she want to keep going or stop? The way he'd pulled away like that, without at all considering what she'd wanted, was somehow comparable to if he'd forced himself on her, just in the opposite direction.

He hadn't asked. He hadn't even thought about it. He'd just acted.

And he felt like a heel, although he should feel like a gentleman. He'd protected her virtue.

But what did virtue really mean? He firmly believed that Melinda hadn't been tarnished by what had happened to her; he knew she and Kevin must have had relations at some point, and he didn't care at all. She was still precious, still worthy of everything he could give her.

So why had he treated her like she was a toss in the hay? Why had he treated that moment as if it were dirty, when it was one of the most beautiful, precious moments of his life?

He'd been wrong, very wrong.

He stopped the bicycle as they neared campus, pulling into the avenue of trees.

Melinda was hopping off, and her gaze was downcast; she obviously felt ashamed over what had happened but she had no reason to feel ashamed. He felt ashamed, for making her feel as though what had happened between them was in any way wrong.

Because it wasn't. It was beautiful, and he couldn't believe he'd ruined it as he had.

"Melinda," he said, catching hold of her hand. "I should have asked you what you wanted, and not just done what I wanted. I don't want you to feel bad about what happened between us."

She looked back at him, her eyes filling with tears. "You made me feel like some sort of whore," she spat. "When I thought we were sharing a moment of love, and you dirtied it."

"Melinda," he whispered, and pulled her into his arms. "Let me make it up to you."

She raised her eyes to meet his.

"Let me make love to you," he finished.


	21. Chapter 21

Melinda had hated the whole bike ride back, and she'd reconsidered this whole relationship as they rode. What did Jim think had happened on that picnic blanket? That he'd taken advantage of her? She'd been a more than willing participant, and his actions after had colored it completely differently in her eyes.

She'd hopped off the bicycle, and her only thoughts were on getting back to the office as quickly as possible. She knew it was past two by now, but surely she could find a story to give Professor James. It would be hard, but she could make up an emergency. Maybe she'd throw Ned under the bus-that was actually a good idea. Say that her landlady's son had been injured.

She'd almost brushed the hurt from her mind and heart, but Jim was rushing after her after she tried to leave.

"Melinda," he said, catching hold of her hand. "I should have asked you what you wanted, and not just done what I wanted. I don't want you to feel bad about what happened between us."

He had to be joking, thinking his words would fix this. "You made me feel like some sort of whore," she spat. "When I thought we were sharing a moment of love, and you dirtied it."

"Melinda," he whispered, and pulled her into his arms. "Let me make it up to you."

She didn't want him to touch her. He'd made her feel dirty, and she couldn't stand for that. She pulled, hard, and he immediately let her go, raising his hands in the air. His eyes were pleading, and his lips spoke words that were the last things she'd expected to come from his mouth.

"Let me make love to you," he finished.

Her heart seemed to stop. Professor James vanished from her mind, and she stared at the man in front of her.

"I am so sorry," he repeated.

She tapped her foot on the ground, folding her arms. "How do you plan on making it up to me?" She asked, wondering at her audacity. What was she wanting him to do? Describe his future actions? Her breath caught, and she knew that yes, she did want him to speak what he'd do.

He stared at her, at a loss for words. Was this moment awkward? Oh god, she shouldn't have said that.

"I'm going to kiss you again," he started, voice low, hands moving to fold his arms. He looked nervous, but she could see him gaining confidence.

"I'm going to take you back to my room," he said. "Mrs. Davis went to visit her sick sister."

That part was less seductive, but very useful information.

"And I'm going to make you feel like you've never felt before," he said, stepping closer, his hands gently settling on her arms, rubbing up and down. She felt her entire body ignite at his touch, as much as she didn't want it to.

She moved one foot closer to him, meeting his gaze. "Kiss me," she said.

He did, and her mouth instinctively curved to his, having learned earlier at the picnic just how to get the best angle. His mouth was so warm, and his lips nibbled at hers. His arms curled around her, and his hands came to cup at her derriere, and she gasped, loud and shocked.

He pulled back, apologetic, but she raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to stop.

"You're going to be the death of me," he said, and cupped harder. She moved closer to him, and his hands slid up to her waist, lifting her up, til her legs wrapped around his waist. "I've dreamed of these moments," he murmured, his lips touching her neck. "My god, Melinda. I've dreamed of this."

* * *

He took the back roads to Mrs. Davis' house, feeling like he had that night he'd taken her back home. Their time together was forbidden, illicit, some would say the actions they planned were wicked.

He didn't care. The woman seated behind him kept him going hard, his legs pumping double time. He was going to make these moments count. They'd gotten cut short ten years ago, and he planned to make up for every moment of lost time.

He didn't see anyone he knew, and he felt safe smuggling Melinda into his house, closing the door behind them with a bang. His hands landed on her face, cupping the beautiful features and staring into her eyes. "Melinda," he whispered. "Are you sure?"

"I've been sure for about ten years," she replied, her hands on his shoulders. "But are you?"

He replied by again lifting her, and her gorgeous legs once again wrapped around his waist. He groaned aloud, giving in to every wanton feeling.

He carried her to his room, his lips pressed to hers, slowly lowering her to the floor once he got there. She leaned against his wall, gasping, and stared up at him.

He suddenly felt too big, and she too small. His hand came to cup her face, and he felt overwhelmed. His other hand came to cup one breast, one part of her that wasn't small, and he moaned, his fingers moving to her buttons and starting to undo the top button.

She was just standing there, staring at him, something like awe in her eyes. He didn't break eye contact as he unbuttoned her dress down to the waist, slowly moving to push the dress down over her shoulders. She was bare to the waist but for her brassiere, and he could barely breathe.

He was thinking about ten years ago, and how different those moments had been...yet how the same. He leaned to kiss her, hungrily tasting her lips, his hand tipping her head farther up.

His other hand moved to cup her ass, again feeling the swell there.

He lifted her up, and lay her on the bed, slowly beginning to unbutton his own shirt. This part was different. Last time had been all circled around her, and he was a little apprehensive about making it about himself, but he'd wanted this moment back for so long.

It was still unbelievable that she was here. So unbelievable.

"Jim," she said, sitting up, kissing him, and then taking over undoing the buttons on his shirt. "I want to give you the gift you gave me last time."

"Melinda," he began, but she silenced him when her hand touched his belt. She was fumbling at it, undoing it with able hands, and he closed his eyes, unable to bear these sensations. "Melinda, I want you," he began again, but she shushed him, her mouth making a soothing noise that made his brain shortcircuit.

Her hands had landed on his erection, and he really didn't know how to process this. "Melinda, please," he gasped, as she palmed him through his trousers, and then he gently pushed her back onto the bed, his hands coming to unfasten her brassiere and lay bare her breasts to him.

And there they were, just as beautiful as they'd been ten years ago. "These are still perfect," he almost growled, his eyes coming to meet hers for just a second. "Don't ever doubt that."

She just smiled, watching as his hands came to touch them, cup them, play with them. "I liked what you did last time," she admitted, and his head lowered to take one nipple into his mouth.

Her hands played with his hair, sometimes pulling quite hard when he hit a sensitive spot. He liked this. He could stay forever like this, his face buried in her breasts, with the sound of her gasps in his ears, and her hands desperately clinging onto his shoulders.

* * *

She wanted it to feel as it had ten years ago, she wanted it to feel like her dreams. And it did, but it didn't.

She knew, so keenly, that she wasn't a teenager anymore. She was a grown woman, and she felt like a grown woman, making her own decisions. She'd chosen this. She hadn't let a moment sweep her away.

She'd wanted it.

She felt her heartrate increasing though, and not just from pleasure. She was thinking back to these kind of moments with Kevin, she was thinking to one late night in the library with Rick which hadn't gone far, but had gone too far for her comfort.

And she tried to remind herself of how different this moment was. Jim's head came up, and he was looking at her, staring at her, really, his eyes almost shining.

And this was the difference, she reminded herself. The difference was that he loved her. And though he hadn't said the words, she knew he did. She knew that this couldn't be happening ten years later if both of them hadn't remembered every instant in that room, hadn't cherished it.

She wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted to feel the difference. She wanted to heal every hurt she'd once felt, and she was moving, placing his hands so that he pulled her dress off the rest of the way. He was stepping out of his trousers, and she saw what she hadn't seen ten years ago.

He was bigger than Kevin had been, and she wondered if that meant he'd hurt more. Yet her body also seemed to be pleased by this, and she could feel her excitement increasing.

She slid out of her undergarments, and then she was lying there nude in front of him. And this moment, this exact moment, had never happened in her dreams. They were always too rushed and full of passion.

This was a different kind of feeling. They were staring at each other, taking each other in. They were getting to know each other again, in ways they'd never known each other.

She felt so vulnerable, so open, yet so safe. In some ways, it didn't make sense. Yet it made perfect sense. They had a bond, forged from steel, and it hadn't gone away this past decade.

"I want you," he whispered, his hand coming to pick up one foot, pressing a kiss to it, his fingers sliding up her leg, up to her thighs. She tensed, but she remembered how it had felt last time.

She wondered what would have happened if she'd waited a day before leaving, if she had waited to see if Jim came back, all those years ago. She wondered if they'd be married with children, and she wished she'd gone to find him. She wished Kevin hadn't been an obstacle.

She wished they'd met in a different way.

But she wouldn't change any part of their love story. Not knowing that this was where they would be, with his fingers deep inside her, making her feel as she had then. She came, in a sweaty mess, her world shattering, and then he was kissing her lips.

"Are you ready for me?" He whispered, and she wondered at his words, before realizing his meaning.

"I am," she said, shifting her hips. She'd never tried with Kevin; those experiences had been too jarring, too confusing. She hadn't known how to give more pleasure, and she hadn't wanted to.

And Jim had just been the bartender. They'd been in totally different worlds, and here they were now. He was poised at her entrance, staring into her eyes. Their lives could have been so different.

She arched her hips upward, meeting him halfway, and he eased into her. He went slowly, but surely, and she gasped.

It was definitely an odd feeling, but better than when Kevin had been inside her. There wasn't pain, exactly, but it was tight.

He was fully sheathed, and she gasped at the feeling. He was big. But he was moving inside her, up and down. She felt her body tense, and she could feel how much wetter she became when he moved inside her as her body made her more ready.

And she loved this feeling, suddenly. He was kissing her, clinging to her, going up and down, and then he was shattering, and she could feel his climax pulse into her.

He sagged over her, breathing hard, moving to kiss her shoulders. "I love you," he said, eyes shining.

"I love you more," she whispered, and he moved to her side, gathering her into his arms.

Professor James, and the fact that she was now over two hours late getting back from lunch, couldn't be further from her mind. She didn't care.

She was with Jim, and that was all that mattered...for now.

* * *

**A/N: I have 30 chapters planned total, so we are now in the home stretch. ~Meowser**


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